An Unfinished Film

To European or U. S. audiences, you might don't like the shooting method, the plot is kind of messy, the screen is not clear.

But if you understand the censorship in China, or search about it before watching this movie, especially get some knowledge about Li Wenliang, Urumqi Fire in 2022, White Paper Revolution, then you will understand this film is about memory. During the film crew dancing in the hallway on the Chinese New Year, that is the human subconscious eagerness to freedom; the phone videos show people rebelling the policemen, that indicates citizens of China rebel Chinese Community Party.

When you know that this film is completely wiped out in the digital world of People's Republic of China, this is a Chinese director directed Chinese film about China during COVID which is prohibited to publish and watch only in China, and this is the true end of this film. This is the reason why I give it 9 stars!

It reminds me of Zheng Yuanjie's novel The Pegasus Bus that I read as a child. A new bus encountered citywide gridlock on its very first trip. The driver adhered rigidly to the rule 'no opening doors before reaching a stop,' refusing to let passengers disembark. The traffic jam lasted twelve years, with the government air-dropping supplies by helicopter to sustain those trapped. Passengers got married, had children, formed organizations, and even apprehended lawbreakers onboard. A new generation grew up within the sealed bus, regarding it as their 'whole world.' Now that I think about it, are we really so different from those living on that bus?

The first half, which moves from the pseudo-documentary format of the crew rebooting a decade-old project in late 2019, to positive footage shot ten years ago, eventually stopping at a screen shot of a documentary format blooper reel. And the second half gradually shifts from a pseudo-documentary at an isolation point to a cell phone vertical screen pseudo-documentary, and finally returns to real web footage. In the epilogue everyone gathers for a drink, speechless, just watching the real documentary material. The director's purpose is also called out. That is, under such a drastic change of the times, man-made movies will be forced to give way to real documentary material at the same time. Forced by the objective environment and the lack of filming conditions, active by the creators to recognize the powerlessness of man-made scripts, even if things have passed, the process of trying to restore the story in any case is not as powerful as the real material. Therefore, this movie is also very self-reflexive while being expressive at the same time. That is, through a pseudo-documentary movie format, it tells everyone about the powerlessness of drama and pseudo-documentary movies. That's why the rating for this movie itself is contradictory. On the other hand, in terms of scarcity, it is indeed one of the few non-main theme movies in mainland China with an epidemic as its background. After making these points clear, I believe we can all make our own judgments. The movie's score and awards thus become less important.

This experimental film draws its essence from temporal dislocation-repurposing old movie footage and blending it with newly shot material to form a new narrative. The resulting intertwining of timelines creates a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere. Especially under the shadow of the pandemic, it pulls the audience into this suspended space where time and memory dissolve into one.

The frequent use of phone-shot footage embedded within the cinematic frame adds a layer of realism, though it also feels jarring-hovering somewhere between documentary and fiction. The dramatic tension reaches its peak under themes of lockdown and conflict, evoking a collective memory. Viewers are transported back to that surreal period.

Though the film may not reach a wide audience, it stands as a vital visual record of an extraordinary time. The dialogue often references things invisible to the audience, leaving them amused or confused-like the director's private jokes or self-mockery. Still, the existence of this film ensures that one day, someone will watch it. And that alone is enough.

Just finished watching An Unfinished Film in the cinema. As a film that is prohibited from being screened in mainland China, it's actually quite restrained in its portrayal. The scene where the crew reunites and toasts as the song "Twilight" plays is both peaceful and poignant; the melody and lyrics feel so powerful.

When you think about it, what has Lou Ye captured in this film? Nothing more than documentation. The camera is honest, and the person holding it is not afraid of being blacklisted. A literally unfinished film, a banned old song-woven together, they fight against a memory that is fading and constantly redefined. Though the viewing experience was a bit traumatic, I don't regret it at all; I found it meaningful. Thank you, Lou Ye.