Nonetheless, history reveals itself in fleeting images of violence and passion, much in the same way as love is sketched in the film. Scenes such as sweaty sex in a dorm room, blurred bodies and faces in nightclub, and a rowboat at sunset convey impressions rather than narrative meaning. Love doesn’t have motives. It shows itself in strokes of poetry, conjuring up fragments of a distant memory that belong not so much to the characters as to us, the audience.
Summer Palace tells a tale in which love and sex intersect with politics. The motifs run parallel, reflect and resonate with each other to summon a collective memory that has yet to be defined and articulated.
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