In the thirties and forties of the twentieth century, China was being brutally ravaged by the Japanese invaders. In this era of gunfire, cultural propaganda became part of the war, and the entertainment industry, especially the film industry, was seen as an important tool for influencing people's minds. Against this backdrop, an actress named Li Xianglan (real name Shuko Yamaguchi) became an iconic figure in this cultural invasion. Born in China, she became part of the propaganda machine of Japanese imperialism because of her Japanese roots and background.
On a cold winter day in 1937, the streets of Peking were full of people. In the shadow of this era, Li Xianglan's name is like a rising star, leaving complex and profound traces on the land of China.
"Father, do you really think this is right?" The young Li Xianglan asked in the luxurious living room of the Mantie, her eyes revealing confusion about the unknown future.
Fumio Yamaguchi, a middle-aged Japanese man, wore a crisp suit and responded with a serious face: "Shuzi, you are now Li Xianglan, and your mission is not just an actor. Our goal is to make more Chinese understand the righteousness of Japan through your voice and image. ”
Li Xianglan's heart fluctuated. She was born in this land, but she was to serve another country. This dual identity brought unspeakable pain to her psyche.
With the passage of time, Li Xianglan's reputation flourished in North China. She has a sweet singing voice and superb acting skills, and has become an idol in the minds of many people. But in the dead of night, she would be alone, facing herself in the mirror and whispering, "Who am I?" ”
"You are our pride, pandan." After a performance, Pan Yugui whispered in her ear that he was her "godfather" and one of her guardians. "Remember, no matter what the outside world may be, you are the bridge that connects the two worlds."
But the brutality of war is not just on the battlefield. With the deepening of the Anti-Japanese War, Li Xianglan's identity and activities began to be questioned and attacked more and more. Every time she appears in public, she could become the center of a storm of public opinion.
"We've heard, you're Japanese?" In one interview, a reporter asked a pointed question.
Li Xianglan smiled slightly, but her heart was turbulent: "I am an artist, I belong to the stage, I belong to music." ”
But the inner struggle and the pressure from the outside world eventually made her feel exhausted. In 1945, as the war drew to a close, her identity and past actions became the focus of the trial. Faced with a possible execution, Li Xianglan calmly accepted the arrangement of fate.
On the day of the trial, Li Xianglan stood in front of the judgment table, her eyes calmly and calmly sweeping over everyone in the courtroom. "Yes, I'm Japanese, but my art belongs to the world. I'm always looking for a platform to belong to, whether it's East or West. Her voice was calm, but every word was as heavy as a thousand pounds.
Eventually, she was acquitted for her performance in the war and her understanding of her dual identity. After her release, Li Xianglan was removed from the public eye, and she chose to spend the rest of her life quietly in a small village, although her name still appears in some historical records from time to time.
Li Xianglan's life is the embodiment of contradiction and conflict, and her story makes us deeply reflect on the meaning of identity, loyalty, and art. In the midst of the war, she tried to build bridges in her own way, which was controversial, but it also showed the desire for peace and the dedication to art in human nature. Li Xianglan's story is like a long song of joy and sorrow, allowing us to continue to explore that eternal question in the long river of history: who are we, where do we come from, and where are we going? On the stage of life, every character deserves to be understood and sympathized, even if the character has been shaped by the storm of fate.