Review - Dragon Seed

 January 28, 2022
 
Dragon Seed – U.S., 1944
 

Let’s be honest. There was absolutely no possibility that Harold C. Bacquet and Jack Conway’s 1944 film Dragon Seed was ever going to have a more authentic cast. World War II was in its third year, the Japanese Internment Camps were in operation, and there was a belief that audiences simply would not go to see a movie starring Asian-American actors and actresses. We’ll never know if this was accurate. However, we do know that there was an interest in films about Asian characters. Seven years earlier, The Good Earth had won awards, and in the years that followed, audiences would flock to films such as Sayonara, Love Is a Many Splendid Thing, the Charlie Chan movies, China Doll and a bit later the films of Bruce Lee. Many of these films even had Asian and Asian-American actresses in lead and supporting roles. So, there has been some progress at least.
 
However, in 1944, what we were likely to get was a film about Asians that starred Caucasians or “exotic-looking” actors and actresses, and that is what we get in Dragon Seed. Make no mistake about it - the film has an impressive cast. In the lead roles, we have Walter Huston (Caucasian Canadian), Aline MacMahon (Scottish-Irish and Russian-Jewish), and Katherine Hepburn (Caucasian American). The supporting roles are played by Akim Tamiroff (Armenian) and Turhan Bey (Turkish and Czechoslovakian-Jewish), as well as Hurd Hatfield, Agnes Moorehead, Frances Rafferty, and Jacqueline deWit. All in all, a pretty inauthentic cast, if you ask me.
 
And yet, here’s the thing. If you can look past the fact that few members of the cast look or sound the part (some even resort to slowing down their speech to sound “Chinese”) and instead focus on what the characters are actually saying and doing, I think you’ll be in for a surprise. It turns out that Dragon Seed is a pretty gripping film.
 
Like many great American films, Dragon Seed is about a family dealing with changing times. The film is set in 1937, and this is significant, for it means that the family’s four children – 3 boys and a girl – were likely born in the aftermath of the Chinese Revolution of 1911. This is significant because revolutions tend to bring about both social change, as well as changes in the mindset of youngsters, especially women. This is certainly evidence in the film. In addition, 1937 brings the looming threat of a Japanese invasion.  
 
At the heart of the film are Ling Tan (Huston) and his wife (MacMahon), and one of the beautiful aspects of the film is their relationship. While we are never told whether theirs was an arranged marriage (I suspect it was), we quickly see that there is a deep connection between them. In an early scene, Ling Tan is working in the field when his wife calls his name. He utters something about not listening to women until after sundown, yet soon drops what he is doing and goes to her. After explaining that she is worried about his health, she suggests that he help her pluck some chickens instead. With a mixture of frustration and playfulness, he responds, “That is woman’s work,” but then assist her anyway. And there, in a nutshell, is their relationship – still rooted in old-fashioned beliefs about the roles of men and women, but also caring and tender. Throughout the film, they talk to each other truthfully and with their hearts, and one of them usually ends up in the other’s arms.
 
They own a sizable farm, which they run with the help of their three sons and one of their daughters-in-law. I say one because the other, Jade (Hepburn), always seems to be absent and distant emotionally. In one scene, her husband, Lao Er (Bey) describes her as “mine, and yet… not mine,” and her non-conformity to traditional norms is viewed as something hideous that must be stamped out. To this end, the family offers some rather telling solutions. Make her wait, one brother says. Another member advises what can only be described as physical violence, and while this advice is never acted upon, the suggestion is nevertheless alarming. So too are several other comments in which domestic violence is presented as both a kind of necessary evil.
 
One day, Lao Er cannot find Jade, so he goes to center of town, half expecting to find her in the arms of the man she could have married. Instead, she is listening to a speech detailing the need to stand up to Japanese aggression. It is a call to arms that only she appears willing to answer. In a later scene, her father-in-law insists there’s no need for alarm. Peace, he reasons, has always been present in the land, and it will continue to reign. If only history had heeded his words.
 
The movie follows these two parallel tracks – modernity on the one hand and war on the other. Scenes in which Lao Er and Jade seek to further develop their relationship are followed by ones in which the war intrudes. For example, in one rather sweet scene, Jade expresses her desire for a book, and Lao Er, though unsure he can truly be progressive, readily agrees to get one for her. Soon afterwards, we witness Lao Er’s uncle’s shop being looted and his products thrown into a raging bonfire. His crime: selling Japanese goods. These two storylines eventually converge in a scene that starts with Jade announcing her pregnancy moments before Japanese planes appear in the sky and start dropping bombs. The war has come, and with it undeniable cruelty.
 
The question Dragon Seed ultimately asks is whether goodness can survive such adversity, whether we can preserve our values and hopes while witnessing a string of shocking atrocities. The answer comes in the form of a patriotic and slightly propagandist monologue that is simultaneously inspiring and naïve. It is delivered by Jade and reflects the long-held hope that war can be so horrifying that it snaps society out of its propensity to hate and brutalize those we either fear or loathe for having the audacity to be different from us. If only we defeat this enemy or that enemy, then all will be right again. It is a lie we tell ourselves to preserve our own sanity, for believing otherwise would mean accepting the unacceptable.
 
Dragon Seed was written by Pearl S. Buck, and unlike The Good Earth, it is completely fictional. Buck left China in 1934 and appears not to have returned. I suspect that her books are not very well read these days, but they were incredibly influential at the time, introducing Western audiences to sympathetic Chinese characters and demonstrating that they weren’t all that different from themselves. This translated into increased public support for China during the war and likely led to more understanding of the Chinese-American community, as well as refugees from China, some of whom eventually settled in the United States. The movie adaptations of The Good Earth and Dragon Seed can only have contributed to this development.
 
These days, the film is viewed as “problematic” due to its cast, its references to abuse, and its rather one-note Japanese characters. This is a shame, for this is not Breakfast at Tiffany’s or Sixteen Candles, movies whose Asian-American characters were created solely for the purpose of being comic fodder. This is a serious, sweet, and tragic film about a horrendous time in history. Its characters are complex with each having a realistic arc and each committing believable actions. Jade and Lao Er’s romance rings true despite the studio’s apparent unwillingness to allow their characters’ lips to actually touch, and there is both a bond and a complexity to each of the other relationships. These indeed were times that tested men’s souls, and Dragon Seed doesn’t shy away from that. I can only hope that we don’t shy away from films like Dragon Seed simply because of what we wish they had been. (on DVD)
 
4 stars