The Last Emperor
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Synopsis
Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor won nine Academy Awards, unexpectedly sweeping every category in which it was nominated—quite a feat for a challenging, multilayered epic directed by an Italian and starring an international cast. Yet the scope of the film was, and remains, undeniably powerful—the life of Emperor Puyi, who took the throne in 1908, at age three, before witnessing decades of cultural and political upheaval within and without the walls of the Forbidden City. Recreating Qing-dynasty China with astonishing detail and unparalleled craftsmanship by cinematographer Vittorio Storaro and production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti, The Last Emperor is also an intimate character study of one man reconciling personal responsibility and political legacy.
Picture 9/10
The Criterion Collection has upgraded Bernardo Bertolucci’s Academy Award-winning film, The Last Emperor, to 4K UHD, presenting the theatrical version in its original aspect ratio of 2.35:1 (finally!) on a triple-layer disc. This version, presented in Dolby Vision, offers a 2160p/24hz ultra high-definition experience sourced from a 4K restoration by Turbine, scanned from the 35mm original camera negative. Additionally, two standard Blu-rays are included: one with a 1080p presentation of the theatrical version (alongside all the release’s special features), and another featuring the television version, which was absent from the previous Blu-ray edition. Both of these Blu-ray presentations are sourced from an older high-definition master overseen by cinematographer Vittorio Storaro and are presented in a 2.00:1 aspect ratio.
Though I’d love to cut some slack since it was one of their first Blu-ray releases, Criterion’s initial edition of The Last Emperor might be one of their worst and over the years, it has only become more disappointing. There have been worse releases (like, say, Lola from the Demy set), but the extremely dated master, possible noise reduction (likely to mask the master’s weaknesses), and a lackluster encode resulted in a blurry, compressed eyesore. It’s watchable, but just barely—better than a DVD, sure, but still far from acceptable. It’s disheartening how an epic film, so beautifully photographed, could look so fuzzy and murky, further marred by a compromised aspect ratio that threw off the framing. Revisiting it now, it’s actually worse than I remembered.
Thankfully, this new 4K presentation corrects all those issues, transforming the film—much like other recent 4K releases, including Bound—into an entirely new experience. There’s so much to praise, but I was floored right from the beginning when Pu Yi is first brought to the Forbidden City and told he would be the new emperor. This dark sequence looked unbelievably lifeless and murky on the Blu-ray. But here, with the sharper resolution and wider dynamic range afforded by HDR, we get deeper blacks, a broader spectrum of color, deep shadows, and sharper highlights, creating a livelier, richer image with better depth and stability. It’s so stunningly beautiful that I was in awe, something I never felt with any of the previous presentations, and that feeling persisted throughout the film.
While the presentation improves in every area over the previous Blu-ray, the wider range in contrast is where I noticed the most significant enhancement. The film has many darker sequences with limited light sources, and this presentation excels at handling them. Scenes set inside the throne room, various parts of the Forbidden City, and the dank prison where Pu Yi eventually finds himself now look richer, cleaner, and far more photographic. A simple shot of prisoners in a smoky, darkened room watching newsreel footage from the war is a standout—light blends cleanly through the smoke, sharply highlighting each individual in the audience.
Colors also look richer, despite the rather limited palette. The prison and World War II scenes are drab, with the prison essentially being gray, but earlier scenes in the Forbidden City are laced with brilliant reds, golds, and yellows, with occasional bursts of blue and green.
The encode is also impressive. Though I haven’t seen Arrow’s edition for comparison, this one handles grain cleanly. Darker areas show no macroblocking, and I didn’t notice any issues with highlights; details remain intact, like the grain, without visible noise or loss of detail (though the SDR screen grabs included here don’t capture this well). The restoration work is also excellent, with no noticeable blemishes. Details are crisp and clear, with the intricacies of the Forbidden City popping off the screen like never before. A few moments have a slightly dupier quality, but that might just be inherent to the materials or photography. And I can’t stress enough how wonderful it is to lose the awkward framing of the previous release and finally see the full image.
As for the high-def presentations, the disc with the 1080p theatrical version is essentially the same as the 2009 release (just with slightly different artwork), using the same master, and it still looks terrible: waxy, poorly compressed, drab, and in that awful 2.00:1 aspect ratio that poorly frames almost every shot.
The television version, not included in the previous Blu-ray but available here (and previously on the 4-disc DVD edition), seems to be sourced from the same high-def master Criterion used for the DVD. It’s a severely dated master, loaded with noise and compression artifacts, though it doesn’t appear to have undergone the same level of noise reduction as the theatrical cut, so oddly it looks a bit better. But the framing is even more off in this version, and the colors lean more towards green. (Both high-def versions are presented in 1080p/24hz.)
The Television Cut's presentation is far from ideal, but since I consider the television version more of a curiosity than a definitive version, I’m not too bothered by it. What truly matters to me is how well the 4K looks, and it looks phenomenal.
Audio 8/10
Criterion presents the film’s 2-channel surround soundtrack in DTS-HD MA. While I don’t usually excel at comparing audio tracks between different editions, even I noticed a significant improvement here. The audio is much sharper, with greater range; the music swells beautifully, filling the environment, and voices have more depth and fidelity, sounding less filtered. Most of the activity remains centralized in the front speakers, but the music and ambient noise do extend to the rears. The mix is nice and it's ultimately a really sharp upgrade.
Extras 8/10
Criterion has ported over the Blu-ray from the 2009 edition, meaning that all the features found on that Blu-ray are also included here. Additionally, they’ve brought over the 218-minute Television Version, which was included in the 4-disc DVD set but omitted from the Blu-ray edition. This version is presented on its own dual-layer Blu-ray disc, and as I mentioned in the video portion, I’m confident it’s the same high-definition master used for the DVD.
I’ll be honest: I sat down to watch this version, not having seen it in a couple of decades, and I just couldn’t bring myself to finish it. I don’t like this version. It’s too long, padded with unnecessary fluff to extend its runtime, and that’s about it. I avoided the Artisan DVD specifically because it included this version, which was marketed as the “director’s cut” but certainly wasn’t. According to Bertolucci, one of the conditions for financing the film was to create this longer cut for television, presumably to air over a couple of nights, with commercials, stretching it to over four hours. While that may have served its purpose, the narrative flow is compromised, with some scenes dragged out longer, killing the pace. Worse yet, the framing of the 2.00:1 image is even worse off, and it feels like they’re just presenting the center of the frame, chopping off the ends—whereas the high-definition presentation for the theatrical cut at least appeared to have been framed shot by shot.
I was relieved to learn years ago that Bertolucci himself disliked this version, so I don’t feel too bad about not caring for it. However, I’ve changed my mind about Criterion including it. Previously, I was okay with its omission from the Blu-ray edition and even wished they hadn’t included it in the DVD set, if only to keep the cost down. But now, for the sake of posterity, I’m glad it’s here, even if it’s not the best presentation. One thing I do wish, though, is that Criterion had included the additional scenes on their own, as some other labels have done with similar titles, so that I could rewatch the material without having to sit through the entire extended version again.
As for the rest of the supplements, my feelings haven’t changed much. Although there’s a lot of content, and much of it is informative, there’s also a fair amount of repetition. The standout remains the audio commentary featuring Bernardo Bertolucci, producer Jeremy Thomas, screenwriter Mark Peploe, and composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, which is available on both the 4K disc and the Blu-ray for the Theatrical Cut.
As was typical of Criterion at the time, everyone was recorded separately and then edited together. Sakamoto has the least amount of time, mainly appearing around the midway point of the film, while Thomas receives the most. Peploe focuses on writing the script and the research involved, noting that the film is not primarily based on Pu Yi’s autobiography, which he didn’t trust. He also admits that he finds Pu Yi, the man, to be an uninteresting subject. He and others note that while they tried to stick close to the facts, liberties were taken to maintain dramatic tension; otherwise, the story might not have been as gripping. Thomas delves into the details of filming in China and the technical aspects of the production, while Bertolucci reflects on the overall shoot, learning about the culture, and how he integrated his filmmaking style into something more akin to a big Hollywood production than what he was used to. In fact, Bertolucci was so stressed about filming a scene with a large number of extras that Thomas had to drag him out of his trailer. Amusingly, Bertolucci also explains that the reason for having multiple composers was that he liked Sakamoto but was also going through a Talking Heads phase, which led him to ask David Byrne to contribute.
Overall, the commentary covers many subjects, including some unrelated to the film, such as Thomas discussing his work with Nagisa Oshima on Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence. But when they focus on the film, they seamlessly segue between topics like the Forbidden City, working with Peter O’Toole, John Lone, and other actors, crew members, and even providing context around the periods depicted in the film. What I found most fascinating is that no one seems to have a high opinion of Pu Yi, which isn’t too surprising if much of the film is true, but that sentiment doesn’t seem to have negatively impacted the film or their desire to make it. The commentary is packed with information and well worth the listen.
The remaining supplements are found on the first standard Blu-ray, which includes the Theatrical Version. First up is The Italian Traveler, Bernardo Bertolucci, a 53-minute documentary made in 1984 after one of his films fell through and just before he made The Last Emperor. I didn’t care for this initially, but I’ve warmed up to it over time, even if I still don’t find it particularly insightful about his work. Bertolucci talks about his films and personal life, revisits some locations for this piece, and touches on the personal issues he’s faced throughout his life. Eventually, it leads to his time in China and the filming of The Last Emperor, but that’s about the only connection to the feature film in this set.
Thankfully, the rest of the material is more engaging, including the 8-minute Postcards From China. Edited together from home video footage shot by Bertolucci and his crew in 1985, it primarily records them scouting locations in China for The Last Emperor. Bertolucci also offers some reflective, poetic narration, which I still find a bit much, but it’s clear he was captivated by China and its people, a sentiment reflected in his voice-over and the footage, though some people seem less than thrilled to be filmed. There’s also an optional commentary by Bertolucci, which I preferred to his original narration. In it, he recalls his experience visiting China and the culture shock he experienced.
Bernardo Bertolucci’s Chinese Adventure, a 51-minute documentary by Paolo Brunatto made in 1986, covers the making of the film. The setup is a bit much, as it opens with Bertolucci reflecting on the film’s production, with the “making-of” or “behind-the-scenes” footage presented as a flashback. Once you get past that (and the 80s-style score), it makes for a decent production documentary.
Filmed on location, it has a wonderful “fly on the wall” vibe, with the cameras simply observing without voice-over narration. It shows the filming of a few sequences and then compares them to the finished scenes in the film. This leads to coverage of the film’s many technical details, including costumes and production design. Post-production, including editing and scoring, is also covered, as is producer Jeremy Thomas unveiling the final poster art for the film to Bertolucci. Some of the details here are repeated elsewhere, but I appreciated the behind-the-scenes footage and found it effectively assembled, once you get past the initial setup.
Possibly figuring that a dated documentary wasn’t enough for an epic film of this scale, Criterion also produced an exclusive documentary aptly titled The Making of The Last Emperor. This talking-head piece gathers director of photography Vittorio Storaro, editor Gabriella Cristiana, costume designer James Acheson, and art director Gianni Silvestri. Running 45 minutes and divided into 7 chapters, it features each member discussing their respective roles in making the film. Acheson surprisingly (or maybe not, considering the scale of the film) receives the most screen time, sharing fascinating details about the film’s costumes, including how he faked some of the embroidery on the outfits (there wasn’t enough time or money to do it properly) and how Bertolucci decided to hire him after seeing only half of Gilliam’s Brazil. Storaro discusses some of the challenges of shooting in specific locations, including the need to get permission from Chinese authorities, which led to certain sacrifices. The commentary and other making-of features cover much of this, but it’s still good to hear insights from other key players.
The focus of the features remains on the film’s production, with little attention given to the actual history and events depicted. As mentioned in the commentary, the film takes liberties while also keeping the audience at a distance from what was happening around Pu Yi, as he too was cut off from the outside world. All of this could, unsurprisingly, lead to some audiences feeling a little lost about what is happening and when during the film. First remedying that a bit is a 45-minute piece called Beyond the Forbidden City, assembled by Criterion and hosted by Ian Buruma. Serving as a crash course on the period depicted in the film, Buruma covers the early 1900s through the Cultural Revolution, including the Japanese occupation, offering context for those less familiar with Chinese history. Additionally, an episode of The South Bank Show provides more details about the emperor himself, half of which focuses on Pu Yi and his life. It even manages to interview someone who knew him and the prison governor who “reeducated” him. While the main focus is still on the film’s production, repeating details already familiar by this point, it does at least include interviews with actors Peter O’Toole and John Lone, who are otherwise absent from this release. It runs for 66 minutes.
Continuing with film-specific material, David Byrne appears in a 25-minute interview to discuss the score and working with Sakamoto, even though it seems they worked separately for much of it. His focus is mainly on the opening score, but he also touches on other aspects of the music for the film, sharing notes and original score sheets. He also offers samples from demos and the final product before explaining his intent, which was to create music that is authentic to the time and place, but not quite. It’s an incredibly thorough discussion of the score and possibly the strongest feature among the material Criterion produced.
The interview material wraps up with Late Show: Face to Face, featuring a 30-minute conversation between Bernardo Bertolucci and Jeremy Isaacs. Bertolucci discusses the numerous Academy Awards won by The Last Emperor and his introduction to the “Hollywood Scene.” He also reflects on his career, the influence of the French New Wave, and his somewhat dramatic falling out with Jean-Luc Godard, which, while ridiculous, isn’t entirely surprising. Bertolucci then shares his favorite films, candidly admitting they’re his more commercially successful ones. Of the director-focused video material, I found this interview to be the most insightful, with Bertolucci appearing more open and approachable.
The supplements conclude with the film’s theatrical trailer. Criterion also includes a booklet, but surprisingly, it’s not the same one that accompanied the Blu-ray. Instead, it closely resembles the one from the 4-disc DVD set. Although it still omits the final section of that booklet—a lengthy production diary—it retains everything else: an essay by David Thomson (the sole item in the Blu-ray booklet), a reprint of an article by Bertolucci, interviews with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti and actor Ying Ruocheng, and a piece on the film’s production by Fabien S. Gerard, which originally led into the production diary in the DVD booklet. It’s disappointing that Criterion chose not to include the production diary excerpts (which ran about 30 pages), likely to avoid making the booklet too thick and requiring a Digipak. And mentioning that, the packaging is another aspect I miss from the DVD edition, which I always thought was rather slick.
I recall being somewhat disappointed by the features originally, especially given the massive scope of the original DVD set. However, revisiting them has been a more rewarding experience. I’ve also come around on the inclusion of the Television Cut. While I’m still not fond of it, I’m glad it’s included, even if only as a curiosity. All in all, it’s a solid set of material that thoroughly covers the film’s production.
Closing
Criterion’s special edition remains packed to the brim, even managing to include material that was omitted from their previous Blu-ray edition. However, the real selling point of this release is the new 4K presentation, which far surpasses the old Blu-ray. The new image is a significant upgrade, completely overshadowing the previous, disappointing release.
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