In theaters.
Curse of the Golden Flower ends with rivers of blood—blood from the wounds of the few characters who have survived and the life’s blood of the many more who have died, not to mention all the blood and brains and bile from the countless extras whose mutilated corpses litter the scene. The movie ends, in other words, like one of Shakespeare’s tragedies. That kind of grisly, epic grandeur is clearly Zhang’s goal, and he succeeds insofar as the comparison to Shakespeare is inevitable, if not particularly flattering: At best, Curse is a Titus Andronicus. It doesn’t even approach Hamlet.
Much Review About Nothing 
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