Tribute to Jia Zhang-ke

Jia Zhangke was born in 1970 in Fenyang, a small town in Shanxi province, northern China. His parents, both civil servants, instilled in him a love for the classics, and, as he himself recalls, despite their modest living conditions, they made every effort to maintain a lite- rary and artistic life. His father, who directed the school theater troupe where he worked, likely sparked Jia's passion for staging. Although deeply attached to his family, Jia, like most young people his age, dreamed of the big city. He moved to Taiyuan to study fine arts, but the discovery of Chen Kaige's film “Yellow Earth” (1984) profoundly moved him, prompting him to change disciplines and devote himself to cinema. In 1993, he was admitted to the Beijing Film Academy, graduating four years later with a degree in filmmaking.

Just a few months later, from the "crumpled papers" scattered across his desk, emerged the script for “Xiao Wu, Artisan Pickpocket” (1997), his first feature film. The movie, widely acclaimed at various international festivals, was a thunderclap in the world of cinema, marking the arrival of a remarkable filmmaker. The protagonist, Xiao Wu, is an old-school petty thief who still adheres to certain "professional" codes. His story, set in the director's hometown, unfolds as a series of events that provide a revealing commentary on the state of contemporary China. The film particularly highlights how economic reform and the race for wealth disrupt human relationships. From this very first feature, produced independently of official structures, Jia Zhang-ke emerged as an eloquent spokesperson for a new aesthetic that seamlessly bridges documentary and fiction. His work brings attention to those left behind by China's rapid modernization during the 1990s. Jia's sense of disquiet, coupled with his empathy for individuals least equipped to adapt to societal changes,became the defining trait of a new generation of filmmakers, with Jia undoubtedly as its leading figure.

The next film, “Platform” (2000), is another independent production, brought to life thanks, among other things, to the support of Office Kitano. The film explores the social upheaval experienced in China between 1979 and 1989 through the journey of a provincial troupe of performers. Until then, no one had depicted the China of the 1980s—a decade rich in events and transformations:

the end of mass ideology, the introduction of Western pop culture, and the emergence of a capitalist societal model. These were also the years of the director's adolescence, which is why, although “Platform” cannot be described as autobiographical, it remains to this day his most personal film. Like “Xiao Wu”, the film achieved great success and marked Jia Zhangke’s definitive breakthrough.

In 2002, Jia Zhangke directed “Unknown Pleasures”, his third feature film. The protagonists are two teenagers killing time by smoking cigarettes, hanging out in pool halls, and wandering the streets of their small town. After addressing the distant children of the Cultural Revolution in “Platform”, Jia Zhangke now focuses on the generation of only children born in the mid-1980s. His direction, both simple and powerful, masterfully highlights the unease of these lonely and disoriented youth, doomed to aimless lives in small towns untouched by the economic miracle sweeping cities like Beijing and Shanghai.

In Fenyang, the booming development of China's major cities reaches only as a faint echo, leaving thousands of teenagers, like the two protagonists, dreaming without much hope of pleasures that will remain unknown.

“Unknown Pleasures” concludes the trilogy Jia Zhangke dedicates to the evolution of Chinese youth during the final decades of the 20th century. The young people he portrays, despite the years separating them, share a common sense of being completely disoriented by the world around them: from the protagonist of “Xiao Wu”, who helplessly witnesses the collapse of the codes that define his environment, to the characters in “Platform”, caught between hope and disillusionment, and finally to the protagonists of “Unknown Pleasures”, who experience the disintegration of collective values without any ideology to provide them with the keys to navigate the new world of individual experience.

In one of his many essays, Jia Zhangke describes this trilogy as the result of his “dissatisfaction with reality,” with cinema as the weapon to help him reflect on a change that is both desired and necessary. The young Jia had found his mission, and the marginalized their passionate advocate.

In this creative process, Jia could now rely on a new ally: the DV camera. It gave him the freedom of movement he needed, though Jia aspired to an even greater freedom: the ability to bring his films out of obscurity and present them to Chinese audiences. His fight culminated in 2003 with a significant victory: Chinese authorities extended a hand to independent filmmakers by announcing the simplification of censorship rules. This reform would finally allow them to obtain permits to legally produce and distribute films in China. Jia Zhangke enthusiastically embraced this opportunity, hoping to revitalize a national cinema now divided by a two-speed dynamic. His next two films, “The World” (2004) and “Still Life” (2006), were thus produced and distributed legally.

In “The World”, the themes dear to Jia—the loneliness and social marginalization of individuals—are still present, but the setting has changed. No longer focused on a small provincial town, this time, it’s the entire world that serves as the backdrop. Set in a theme park featuring scaled-down replicas of the world’s most famous tourist landmarks, the park’s workers live their lives oscillating between small hopes and major disappointments. A striking metaphor for China’s position in the face of globalization, “The World” mirrors the human anxieties—both Chinese and Western—that globalization evokes.

With “Still Life”, accompanied by its documentary counterpart “Dong” (2006), Jia Zhangke returns to his roots: he leaves behind miniature replicas of global capitals to revisit China’s remote provinces. The idea for the documentary came before the fictional film. Jia follows his painter friend, Liu Xiaodong, to the Three Gorges Dam area to capture him creating a series of paintings depicting the workers tasked with demolishing buildings and towns in the region, soon to be submerged by rising waters. Once on-site, Jia is deeply moved by the landscape and the fate of its inhabitants. The documentary evolves into a historical record of the area, and Jia decides to expand it with a fictional narrative. Like the director himself, the two protagonists of “Still Life” embark on a return to their roots, journeying back to their homeland in search of loved ones.

Added to the 2006 Venice Film Festival at the last moment and screened to a nearly empty press room, “Still Life” captured the hearts of the jury, who unanimously awarded it the Golden Lion. For those concerned about the possibility of Jia Zhang-ke being co-opted by the system, the film delivered an unequivocal response: Jia’s talent had not been compromised by official recognition. On the contrary, he emerged as an auteur who retained his sharp, impactful style.

Capturing the rapid social, economic, and cultural changes in contemporary China, as one world gives way to another, becomes the central theme that Jia refines in his subsequent films. He achieves this through a blend of genres, as a master of cinema who understands that reinvention is key to its survival.

In “Useless” (2007), for instance, he adopts an experimental approach, combining elements of social documentary with aesthetic reflection to raise critical questions about the global economy and the materiality of consumer culture.

Conversely, docufiction takes center stage in “24 City” (2008) and “I Wish I Knew” (2010). In the former, Jia explores the closure of a state-owned factory in Chengdu through personal stories from the last remaining workers. In the latter, Chengdu gives way to another historic city, Shanghai, where filmmakers, writers, and workers recount their past, painting a poignant portrait of the city's history since the 1930s. Jia’s virtuoso camera follows the journeys - both geographical and temporal - of actress Zhao Tao as she delves into the memories of Shanghai's inhabitants.

The new millennium, marked by an increasingly globalized world and unpredictable bursts of violence, did not escape Jia's keen eye. He captures this in “Touch of Sin” (2013) through four distinct stories. In different parts of China, protagonists refuse to submit to an order they find increasingly unjust. Violence becomes their means of expression. With a more dynamic style and darker tone, Jia delivers a profoundly pessimistic vision of contemporary China, one shaped by alienation and the loss of traditional values.

From “Mountains May Depart” (2015) to his latest film, “Caught by the Tides” (2024), and including “Ash Is Purest White” (2018), Jia Zhang-ke initiates a reflection on China's evolution over several decades. He particularly examines the fate of fundamental human values in an increasingly materialistic society.

Through three temporalities (2001, 2006, and 2022), “Caught by the Tides” offers a triple journey: into China’s transformation over the past 25 years, into the lives of those who have experienced it, and into Jia Zhang-ke's own cinema. This journey takes on the semblance of an artistic retrospective, blending the radical fictions of his early career with his documentaries and a more romantic nar- rative style in his recent work.

A consistent thread running through these three films is the magnificent Zhao Tao, Jia Zhangke’s muse, who traverses all these eras with melancholy and resilience—the very qualities that define the Chinese people to whom Jia’s films are dedicated.

As the crowning touch to this remarkable tribute from the Vesoul International Film Festival, two previously unseen gems are presented: “Swimming Out Till the Sea Turns Blue” (2020), a documentary exploring collective and individual memory through the voices of three Chinese writers born between 1950 and 1970; and “Black Dog” (2024) by Hu Gang, where Jia Zhangke takes on the unusual role of an actor.

In conclusion, Jia Zhangke’s cinema stands as a valuable testimony to the complex realities of 21st-century China. This retrospective provides a comprehensive understanding of his work, which continues to narrate, with originality and relevance, the unprecedented transformations of post-socialist China.

Luisa Prudentino
Chinese cinema specialist