Raise the Red Lantern 1991

In 1920s Republican China, Songlian, a nineteen-year-old educated woman, faces a grim turn of fate after her father dies and leaves the family bankrupt. Her stepmother pushes her into a marriage with the powerful Chen family, elevating her to the position of the Fourth Mistress (Sì Tàitai) within a house where wealth masks a strict social game. On arrival, she is briefly treated as royalty—foot massages, bright red lanterns, and a guarded welcome from her husband, the master, whose face remains unseen as if to underscore the mystery and distance at the core of the household.

The everyday order inside the manor is delicately scripted by the master, who decides each night which wife will receive his attention. The chosen woman enjoys lighting her lantern, a comforting foot rub, a preferred menu, and the most deference from the servants, while the others fade into the margins of the household’s ritual. Against this gilded backdrop, the inhabitants maneuver for status and affection, and the drama unfolds around a web of rivalries, alliances, and private disappointments.

Among the women, the First Mistress, Yuru, appears as stern and authoritative, having borne a son years earlier, which anchors her seniority. The Second Mistress, Zhuoyun, offers warmth to Songlian, praising her youth and beauty, and gifts her luxurious silk while also warning her about the ambitious Third Mistress, Mei Shan, a former opera singer who seems unsettled by aging and losing her place as the youngest favorite. The atmosphere grows tense as Mei Shan remains cool and distant toward Songlian, a contrast that sharpens the sense of rivalry in the house.

Songlian’s personal maid, Yan’er, harbors resentment toward her mistress. The power dynamic shifts when Songlian catches Yan’er with the Master in her bed, laying bare the ache of forbidden proximity and the fragility of loyalty within servitude. In the background, Songlian’s search for a lost flute—an heirloom from her late father—becomes a symbolic thread that unravels into revelations about loyalty, secrecy, and control. As she searches for the flute, she discovers red lanterns hidden in Yan’er’s room and a curse charm bearing Songlian’s name, hinting at the way names and fates intertwine in this household.

A crisis of trust follows when Yan’er’s name is revealed to Zhuoyun by Songlian, who had been pressed into a lie by the surrounding intrigues. Zhuoyun’s response to the situation escalates when a pair of bloodied undergarments surfaces, suggesting that Songlian’s pregnancy claim is a sham. To verify the claim, the family physician, Dr. Gao, is summoned, and his examination confirms that the pregnancy is a fabrication. In a punitive backlash, the master orders Songlian’s lanterns to be covered with black canvas, signaling a drastic tightening of control over her status. Blaming Yan’er for the troubling turn of events, Songlian tries to expose the hidden room of red lanterns, and Yan’er is punished—kneeling in the snow through the night until she collapses and falls gravely ill.

The household’s scheming deepens when Zhuoyun asks Songlian for a haircut, and Songlian unintentionally injures her by cutting Zhuoyun’s ear. Mei Shan, sensing the volatile mood, exposes Zhuoyun’s past treachery and counsels Songlian to strive for a son if she hopes to keep her foothold with the master. In a dark moment of introspection, Songlian muses that it might be better to end her life; Mei Shan offers a more cynical coping strategy, claiming she survives by indulging in her own affairs, including an ongoing relationship with Doctor Gao. Meishan warns Songlian that secrets, if spoken, would invite grave consequences.

On Songlian’s twentieth birthday, she chooses to celebrate alone with alcohol, only to learn that Yan’er has died, uttering Songlian’s name in her final breath. She drinks in sorrow, and Zhuoyun’s attendants arrive to try to curb her behavior. Later, Songlian learns that Meishan and Doctor Gao were together in a hotel, a fact she had previously hinted at while drunk, and Zhuoyun’s servant confirms the betrayal. The fallout culminates when Meishan is dragged to a secluded “room of death” atop the estate for her infidelity, leaving Songlian in a state of horror. After the servants depart, Songlian enters the room and is overwhelmed, crying out that they are murderers.

The summer that follows brings another marriage for the master, and the new Mistress is attended by the household as she goes about her duties. A servant casually notes that the fourth mistress—the youngest and now the target of rumors—has begun to unravel, and the atmosphere grows increasingly haunted by whispers of instability. The film closes with Songlian wandering the courtyard in her old schoolgirl clothes, a solitary figure drifting through a house that both shapes and consumes her.

It would be better if she just hanged herself.

In this film, the quiet architecture of power inside the Chen mansion mirrors the fragile inner lives of the women who inhabit it. The narrative declines into a study of desire, competition, secrecy, and the heavy price of being seen—or unseen—in a world where attention is a scarce currency and every action can be read as a vote in a deadly, unspoken jury.