Last night I was watching the Last Emperor, a 1987 movie, on a movie channel. I remember my grandpa, who is still alive, took my older brother, older sister and me to a movie theater to watch the film. I was only about 8 years old. Although I fell asleep in the middle of the movie, I was still impressed by the background music/movie soundtrack. I knew Grandpa was the only one who knew what was going on in the movie. The movie was not much to us, the kids, at that time.
It was nothing to me until last night. I watched it attentively and finally had a lot of sympathy for Emperor Pu Yi. It was like he was in prison almost all his life, whether in the Forbidden City, Manchuria or the real prison. He was kept in captivity here and there. What impressed me a lot was that he lost his butterfly/first love (Ar Mo, “Let me say goodbye to him! [Ar Mo did not even have a chance to say goodbye to Pu Yi.]” Pu Yi, “She is not my nanny. She is my butterfly.”) and his love-and-hate relationship with his first wife/Empress Wan Jung. It was pure love and attachment between Pu Yi and the nanny/Ar Mo. It was strong love, hatred, suffering between Pu Yi and Wang Jung. It seemed as if I could feel their pain, three of them, especially that of the empress.
All his life was pain.