Jin ling shi san chaii is a piece of repugnant shit on the level of the daily video edition of the New York Times or whatever leftover pieces from the Stakhanovist Russia you may be familiar with.
The actual events as they unfolded in the place and time (known in English as The Rape of Nanking) were as follows : on the background of a a dysfunctional society (the Chinese) being invaded by a functional society (the Japanese), the inhabitants of a certain large city (Nanking) held the largest open air fuckfest in the history of the world. Under the complicit gaze of millions of sexually neutered Chinese boys, millions of sexually active Chinese women copulated repeatedly with and were impregnated successfully by a few hundred thousand Japanese men.
The fictitious retelling is so far removed from those actual events it purports to retell as to constitute first class material for psychiatrists of all alignments. So : "the Chinese people were dedicated to maintaining the Chinese fatherland", we are told by the booming voice of the author-ideologue, yet the actual Chinese involved would prefer nothing above being someone else, somewhere else. "The Chinese army was undersupplied and outmatched by the invader's materiel", we are told, only to witness an apparent endless supply of ammo for the Red Army's scoped rifles (the Japanese couldn't afford scopes) not to mention copious bundles of apparently weightless dynamite.
The vomit-bag scene is the moment where the faux Caucasian priest - who is really an inept and altogether base impostor and in no case the constructor of the stained glass nor the drawer of the designs for that construction, they just, you know, happened - tries (verbally) and fails to protect a herd of obnoxious Chinese "virgins" (who are inexplicably played by insufferably obnoxious old maids) yet specifically at the precise moment when some squirming ball of anti-fun is just about to get it, the Chinese Soldier (as idealized) shoots the two assailants a quarter mile away through stained glass (how did he aim ?) and so enacts the miracle wherein the sun coming through the European version of God lights the face of the delivered virgin. The thesis here, as evidently driven by a (justified and justifiable) inferiority complex as humanly possible, would be that for all the pretense of white men, it's really the nameless, tough-as-coffin-nails Red Army soldier who actually moves the mechanisms of the world so that the expected results are actually delivered.
That this is patently false today needs no further discussion ; that it's a ridiculous retelling of the history of China at any point during its existence needs no further debate. That these people to this day need such ridiculous periphrastic crutches to assuage the burning psychological pain their short stature, tiny hands and tiny penises apparently inflict is pretty much the height of ridiculousness. Compared to such peaks of involuntary clowning, the depiction of a single soldier who can apparently kill hundreds in the enemys' ranks, or of an isolated platoon that can apparently wipe three tanks supported by a whole company within the space of ten minutes fail to even register. Besides, the Asian market has a lengthy history of poor farmer boys fighting bullets with their lengthy braided hair and other such compensatory fiction.
Really guys - you're not subhuman because short, or because small dicks. You're subhuman because respect, rather than honor. Being short and tiny dicked didn't prevent the Japanese from being the best fighter pilots in WW2, and it wouldn't prevent you, either - provided you manage to stop with the respect bullshit and move wholly into the honor arena.
You know things are pretty fucking horrible when the female Wail is everpresent, and even the divine-god of a Perfect Soldier dares not put the stupid bitches in the yoke to plow the ground in line with the oxen (which, incidentally, they'd love, much like they loved all that sweet, sweet Japanese "forcible" cock).
I'm not going to say anything about the tiresomely counterstrikesque construction of the whole thing, from the actual composition of scenes to the insane abundance of rounds and narrow fire delays because whatever, cinema was always about being cheap.———
- aka The Flowers of War, 2011, by Yimou Zhang, with Ni Ni, Xinyi Zhang and an incredibly inept and out of place Christian Bale. [↩]