RUAN LINGYU

Galvan chronicles the career and tragic downfall of Chinese silent-film star Ruan Lingyu, who appeared in 30 motion pictures in her short life.

Born in 1910 in Shanghai, Ruan was raised by a single mother who was a live-in maid for the wealthy Zhang family. One of the sons, Zhang Damin, became enamored with Ruan in her teens. The couple entered a common-law marriage, and, at 16, Ruan dropped out of school to work. She landed her first acting role in Husband and Wife in Name, released in 1927 to “enthusiastic” reviews. By the early 1930s, Ruan was regarded as “the most talented Chinese performer—male or female—of the age.” However, her personal life was rocky. Zhang refused to work and gambled away both his inheritance and Ruan’s earnings. Though she secured a job for him as a manager of a Shanghai movie theater, he was fired for stealing ticket proceeds. Tang Jishan, a tea company manager, began wooing Ruan. In 1933, after a legal separation from Zhang, Ruan and Tang became lovers. Zhang sued the couple the following year over a property dispute, and Tang filed a defamation countersuit against Zhang. The dueling trials generated sensational media coverage that cast Ruan as an adulterer. When Ruan pleaded with Tang to let her resolve the issue, he struck her. Ruan stayed with him despite subsequent violent incidents and betrayals to avoid further controversy. On March 8, 1935, she spiked her congee with sleeping pills, slipped into a coma, and later died in the hospital. She was 24 years old and left behind an adopted daughter.

Galvan provides a well-documented account of Ruan Lingyu’s life and her trailblazing work in the silent era of Chinese film. He cites a variety of sources, including the suicide notes Ruan left to the men in her life, one of which laments, “But actually I’m guilty of what? I’m only regretting that I should not become the trophy between the two of you.” The book offers valuable insights into the forces that shaped the actor’s career within Shanghai’s broader political and social landscape, including the effects of censorship during the rule of the Kuomintang and the use of film to promote leftist ideology. However, the bulk of the book consists of extensive film plot summaries that may fail to resonate with noncinephiles who have not seen the films (and will never be able to access them because they are “believed lost”). Certain sections focus so intensely on film industry timelines that they detract from what could have been a more intimate narrative about Ruan’s struggles. Ruan’s personal drama will likely be the most appealing and relatable aspect of the book for general audiences; unfortunately, there is little analysis of why someone savvy enough to navigate a male-dominated movie industry continually paid off Zhang’s debts, kept him out of jail, and put her reputation on the line to arrange more jobs for him after she became financially solvent. The book’s structure is also a bit awkward—Galvan inserts notes and sources at the end of each chapter rather than in an appendix, requiring the reader to flip through multiple pages of footnotes between chapters and interrupting the narrative flow.

A well-researched deep dive into early Chinese cinema that spends too little time on the interior life of its subject.