Execution in Autumn (1972) Melodrama, Sadness and the Taiwanese Experience (Review)

Before directors like Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Edward Yang reinvented Taiwanese cinema with their new wave films in the 80s (such as Dust in the Wind and Terrorizers respectively) the Taiwan film industry was much more closed off to the Western world. Despite directors like King Hu gaining a lot of popularity in the 21st century many directors remained, and still do to this day, forgotten. One of these was Shanghai-born Li Hsing whose family moved to Taiwan in the late 1940s due to the Chinese civil war. He would go on to have a fairly lengthy and stable career as a film director specialising in melodrama and would make films until the mid-80s.

Li would work for the government’s own film production company, the ​​CMPC, which was created to build a cinema movement based around “traditional Chinese values” – these films were mostly kung fu or melodramas. Taiwan was under martial law at this point in time which often drove a lot of the creative output from directors, causing many films to be either pure propaganda or at least to have a good degree of conservative themes. Eventually, Li would stop working for the CMPC and set up his own film company which gave him more freedom about the themes his films were allowed to cover.

Perhaps the most ambitious film he made under this new studio was Execution in Autumn, a 1972 period melodrama. In the opening scenes of the film, we are introduced to a man running through the woods, being chased by a group of guards; he is beaten and his feet are chained together. We soon learn that this man is Pei Gang, someone who is on trial for the murder of three people – two men and one woman. Whilst his claims of self-defence for killing the two males hold up, he is still convicted for the murder of the woman, something which results in the death penalty. He has around one year to wait for the next Autumn season to come before he will be executed. 

From the very start of the film, it is clear that Pei Gang is a brutish and violent man whose blind rage causes him to lash out at everyone around him, even when they have done nothing wrong. What we learn over the course of the first act is that he belongs to a wealthy Chinese dynasty to which he is the last and sole heir. Growing up as the last remaining person in the family who can keep the family legacy going his childhood was spoiled and he was allowed to do virtually anything he wanted, without any consequences. This is where the contradictions between the more radical approach to the affluent in society come into conflict with the more conservative martial and disciplinary attitudes held in Taiwan at the time.

Despite her best efforts, Pei’s grandmother is not able to secure his release, she is terrified that his death will bring an end to her family’s name, so she comes up with another plan. She manages to convince a woman named Lian, who has been raised in the family since she was an orphan, to marry Pei and attempt to conceive a child with him whilst he is in prison, with the hopes that she will bear a child and the family legacy can continue. With the psychological breakdown of the upper classes and the burden that life has on females in feudal, and modern, China you end up getting a film that feels similar to the melodrama works in the 50s by directors like Douglas Sirk.

Cinematographer Lai Cheng-Ying makes use of the barren sets, which is essentially just a sparsely populated prison with only two or three guards, by raming prisoners behind the wooden bars to their cells or capturing the over-dramatic expressions with much precision and beauty. Throughout the film, there is a heavy sense of melancholy, which continues to build until the film’s fatalistic ending, as Pei awaits the agonising slow arrival of autumn. One specific scene is a fight between Pei and the master guard; however, unlike Wuxias, which were popular at the time, there is no grandeur, just an overflowing sadness and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves around them.

However, despite not being overly lengthy the film does start to drag ever so slightly, something that isn’t helped by the incredibly minimal locations. Whilst the period setting works and the costumes and set design are very good, it would’ve been great to see a bit more of the world. Unlike Western films that share the same DNA, Execution in Autumn has no artifice or hyper-realistic atmosphere and everything feels very grounded in reality, which is in stark contrast to how over the top the lead performance is. One notable bit is Pei slamming his chains against himself screaming about how he wished his Grandmother had beaten him so he learned right from wrong; a message that probably comes from the very military-focused culture in Taiwan at the time. There is a specific rage and subtle melancholy to Pei and Lian that does actually become emotionally interesting and even genuinely downbeat at times.

Whether you are a fan of classical Hollywood melodramas or are just interested in seeing how Taiwanese cinema was before the arrival of the new wave directors, then this film is absolutely worth checking out. Whilst it doesn’t do anything outstandingly different it is a very well-made drama that feels a lot different from period pieces that were created at the time. If anything it feels very similar to the work Zhang Yimou would go on to create in the 90s with Gong Li. Alongside the beautiful restoration, there is a wonderful video with Tony Rayns who gives a fantastic overview of the film’s history and of the Taiwanese cultural history surrounding the film.

Autumn’s Archive – Execution in Autumn