mbutterfly essay

“Fantasy is the … mechanism that structures subjectivity by reworking or translating social representations into … self representations” (Theresa deLauretis)
“It’s your fantasy isn’t it? The submissive Oriental woman and the cruel white man”
(Song Liling in M. Butterfly)
Could M. Butterfly be described as both a representation and a deconstruction of Western discourses and representations of Orientalism and of otherness? (In answering this question engage with the quotes listed above, and also with some of the ideas about race, gender, sexuality, subjectivity, otherness, discourse, deconstruction, and so on, discussed throughout the course.)

Based on David Henry Hwang’s play that was inspired by true events, M. Butterfly tells of the tragically-doomed love affair between René Gallimard (Jeremy Irons), a French diplomat, and Song Liling (John Lone), a Chinese opera singer. The clandestine relationship lasted almost twenty years before it was revealed that Song was actually a man, who had been disguising himself as a woman to obtain sensitive classified information from the French through Gallimard. While the film showed how the West generally exercised its domination over the ‘exotic’ East, it also interestingly offered an alternative reading that deconstructed some of the abovementioned discourses. This occasional schizophrenic meaning-making process is epitomised by the obvious problem of choosing the correct pronoun when referring to Song. For the purposes of this essay, I shall use ‘she/her’ to denote Song.

M. Butterfly has a few Western discourses at work, but none as pervasive as Western superiority over the East, which manifests itself in the construction of the Oriental ‘Other’. This can be seen physically, through the film’s settings, costumes and props, and thematically, through the inter-racial romantic relationship between Song and Gallimard. There are the quintessentially Chinese back alleys, ubiquitous red paper lanterns and locals riding bicycles and tending roadside stalls, amongst other things. The opening credits also give the reader, as the film can be considered a text, a prelude of what to expect in a film dealing with the ‘Far East’ with oriental sounding music playing in the background as images commonly associated with the Orient (by the West) like Chinese opera face masks, watercolour paintings and kimonos are shown.

However, these discourses can be deconstructed to expose “the hidden work of ideology in our daily experience of ourselves and our world”. It must be noted that such representations are not simply a reflection of the East. Instead, these images construct the reality associated with the East because they represent the exoticness and foreignness of the East, as perceived by the West, and in this case, the director, David Cronenberg. These dominant ideas of representations of the East are grounded in Orientalism, which generally serves to situate the East as “the West’s inferior ‘Other’”. This Western domination over the East allows the West to “understand, in some cases control, manipulate, even incorporate, what was manifestly a different world.”

In Orientalism, the West is perceived to be “rational, mature and normal”, unlike the East. The superiority felt by the West in M. Butterfly is shown through the disdain with which the French regard the locals. Gallimard pays scant disregard to Song’s maid, rudely brushing her off when he perceives her to be in his way. The French make jokes about the Chinese blowing their noses on the pavements and spitting onto passing car windscreens. By regarding such behaviour as uncouth and uncivilised, the French are subconsciously judging and disparaging the Chinese by imposing on them their own cultural practices, ignoring the fact that what the Chinese are doing is common in their culture.

It is arguable that the East is seen as “a mirror in which the West sees the rejected and disavowed parts of itself.” It can also then be suggested that the Orient is essentially a Western construct, which therefore reveals more about itself than the East. The issue of identity in the film thus builds upon this premise of the self and other. One’s identity is tied implicitly to what it is not. Furthermore, within these binary oppositions, there is a hierarchy, with one term valued above the other. In M. Butterfly, the West is superior to the East; the man above the woman and heterosexuality over homosexuality.

This is clearly evident in M. Butterfly, with Gallimard personifying the West and Song, the East. Their relationship, paralleling that of the West and East, has Gallimard in control “of power, of domination, [and] of varying degrees of a complex hegemony.” The hierarchy is further perpetuated along gender lines, as Gallimard is a man and Song, a woman (to Gallimard). Therefore, not only is Song subordinated on the basis of her race, she is also discriminated implicitly against by her gender.

Gallimard constructs Song as his perfect Oriental ‘Other’ – a submissive woman willing to “die for the love of unworthy foreign devils”. Initially she spars with him intellectually, challenging his views about the world. An example is when she questions Gallimard’s admiration for Madame Butterfly’s sacrifice of her life because of unrequited love. Song contests his fantasy by asking if he would feel similarly if it were a blonde cheerleader instead in love with a Japanese man. Insightfully, she echoes his thoughts, “Now I believe you would consider this girl to be a deranged idiot, correct? But because it’s an Oriental who kills herself for a Westerner, you find her beautiful?” This presents an interesting take on an Oriental character (especially a female one) by allowing her to have opinions of her own. However, it unfortunately does not last long. Soon, Song falls into the stereotypical role of a subservient and willing slave, eager to fulfil her master’s every desire. She waits patiently for him every night to visit her, submits herself sexually to him when he makes requests and never complains. Therefore, Song comes to be Rene’s Butterfly, the epitome of Oriental fantasies, with her as the “submissive Oriental woman” and Rene, “the cruel white man”. He has embraced the “social representations” of the Oriental ‘Other’ and used them to structure his own ideas about Song and what she would symbolise to him.

Yet it is worth noting that without the subjugation of the East (and Song) as the inferior ‘Other’, the West (and Gallimard) would be unable to substantiate its claims of superiority over the East – “the truth of the master is in the slave”. Moreover Orientalism, through shaping the East, also helps to construct the West, sometimes as inaccurately as its portrayal of the East. The depiction of the Westerners who spend their days attending soirees and dinners in M. Butterfly is an example of the stereotypical view that they spend more time socialising than working.

Interestingly, while M. Butterfly offers rather stereotypical views of the East, as conjured from a Western perspective, it also subverts the notion of the West’s (and to a lesser extent, masculine’s) insidious superiority. As the true identity of Song is revealed, the reader gets the impression that it is ironically the East who has the upper hand, at least in this film. “His Butterfly is not a victim of the colonial master, the “white devil,” or a passive object of his desire; Song Liling’s Butterfly is not guileless and not passive, not an object but indeed the subject – the conscious and willful subject – of a fantasy that sustains the agency of his own desire (“I invented myself just for him,” Song says at the trial).”

Thus, there has been a role reversal of master and slave; a destabilisation of the supposed hierarchy between the East and West; man and woman. Song has actually been consciously playing up her duplicitous role as the pliant Oriental mistress that is Gallimard’s fantasy. She perpetuates his fantasy of the Oriental woman being exotic by showing him the “ancient Oriental ways of love”. She boosts his ego and makes him feel superior to Chinese men by telling him that “they keep women down” because they are insecure and that it is “exciting… loving a Western man”. Song allows herself to be thought of as meek and helpless by Gallimard. When she tells him that she is pregnant, he offers to “love you and rescue you and save you and protect you.” Ironically, while Song is perceived to be the needy one, she is actually actively constructing herself in that role that she knows Gallimard desires.

Hence, the one in control in the relationship is Song (and the East), not Gallimard (and the West), who is tricked by her disguise. Even after Gallimard learns that Song is actually a man, he is more devastated because his fantasy of his Butterfly is over rather than because of Song’s actual biological makeup. When Song strips naked to prove that he is a man, Gallimard retorts, “You’re nothing like my Butterfly.” He hangs on to the idea of his Butterfly, which he constructed for Song, and of which she was a willing participant in the process. Thus, by choosing fantasy over reality, it allows Gallimard to continue to dominate and have power over the East, despite the true circumstances of the situation.

Unfortunately, the reason behind this deception remains unexplained in the film. However, the general consensus points towards Song being in love with Gallimard and dressing up as a woman as being the only acceptable method of continuing the relationship with him. This need for false pretences on the part of Song and the reception of it when all is revealed also presents a related issue relevant to this essay – that of sexuality and gender.

Song, by dressing up as a woman, has transcended the well-established boundaries of masculinity and heterosexuality. For undisclosed reasons, Song discards the gender attributes commonly associated with his biological sex and instead takes on the gendered identity of a woman. Aware of what constitutes Gallimard’s fantasy of the “perfect woman”, Song becomes the feminine and gentle Oriental ‘Other’. Trying her “best to become somebody else”, Song constantly practices her deception; even reading magazines that Comrade Chin (Shizuko Hoshi) deems as “decadent trash”. Song thus comes to represent the epitome of femininity with her long, flowing hair and acquiescent demeanour because “in the figure of Butterfly the performance of femininity actually comes to embody it, for both men, regardless of anatomy”. Yet while she is performing this role, she is actually subverting the discourse of femininity as she is essentially a man just acting the part. But as gender is considered a cultural construct and performative, it seems plausible that one can “learn to become a woman or a man, feminine or masculine”, like Song did.

The question of defining femininity and what makes a woman ‘woman’ is also raised in the film. Interestingly, the film repeatedly endorses that the concept of the ideal woman is a fantastic one – “only a man knows how a woman is supposed to act.” Therefore, no ‘real’ woman would be able to live up to this fantasy. Thus, it seems like only poetic justice that the woman that Gallimard should fall in love with is a man.

At the end of the film, Gallimard refuses to accept Song when his true identity is exposed. It thus becomes clear that Gallimard only approves of the relationship when it is a heterosexual one – between a woman and a man. Homosexuality is not even to be considered as a possibility by Gallimard. This point, that it is the fantasy of having an Oriental female lover that Gallimard wants and not one of mutual respect and love, regardless of biological sex, is reiterated when he rejects Song although even “under the robes, beneath everything”, it is the same person. Instead, Gallimard is in love with “a perfect lie” – his construction of Song as his docile Butterfly. It has been advocated that his disappointment lies more in the destruction of his fantasy than of Song being a man, though this fact is certainly also unacceptable to him.

Heterosexuality being the accepted and dominant form of sexuality in arguably traditional and masculine societies like France and China, Song’s sexuality, and consequently Gallimard’s, are questioned as a result of their relationship. Under the “sex/gender system”, their liaison would be categorised under ‘bad’ sexuality. For not only is it a homosexual one, it deals partially with cross-dressing and fetishes. Gallimard himself is aware the ridicule he faces because of his affair with Song that “made all of France laugh.” If Song was really disguising herself so that she could be with Gallimard, it is unfortunate and yet perfectly understandable why she would have to resort to such devices to continue the charade. It could thus be interpreted in this context that the most “forbidden of loves” Song is referring to earlier in the film is that of homosexual love. This reveals the absolute hierarchy of sexuality in society, with heterosexuality being superior while homosexuality remains something barely tolerated. However, the debate still rages over if the relationship between Song and Gallimard should really be considered homosexual, since Gallimard was always under the impression that he was indulging in a heterosexual one.

M. Butterfly ends with Gallimard killing himself while dressed up as a Japanese woman. It is the only way in which he is able to hold on forever to his fantasy of his exotic Butterfly. Meanwhile, Song gets deported back to China. The film, especially its ending, thus seems to be a cautionary tale – covertly dissuading readers from following the two men’s path, lest they want to end up broken like them. Thus although the film can be seen to represent and deconstruct Western discourses, it ultimately still supports, consciously or not, the dominant hegemonic ideologies prevalent in society today.

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