The film An Unfinished Film by Chinese director Lou Ye is surprisingly ordinary yet has captured global attention. This semi-documentary follows a film crew trying to revive a decade-old project while they are quarantined in a hotel near Wuhan during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. Unlike Lou’s usual intricate narratives, this film has a simpler storyline and minimal character development.
Since its debut at the Cannes Film Festival, this modest feature has sparked both praise and controversy. It’s officially banned in China but has gained recognition abroad, winning Best Director for Lou at Taiwan’s Golden Horse Awards. Audiences have shown enthusiasm, filling theaters in places like Paris and Tokyo, where some cheered, “Lou Ye, you’re the greatest director from China!”
The excitement around the film isn’t just about its artistic merits but reflects the public’s desire for genuine portrayals of the pandemic. This raises an important question: why are audiences so eager to label it a masterpiece?
The film starts in the summer of 2019, with director Xiaorui attempting to complete their abandoned film project. The lead character, Jiang Cheng, is portrayed by Qin Hao, a familiar figure in Lou’s works. As Jiang and Xiaorui look back at old clips, viewers may notice connections to Lou’s previous films, such as Spring Fever.
When the crew finally began filming again in early 2020, chaos ensued as the Chinese government quickly imposed lockdowns. This sudden stop to their work mirrors the abrupt societal changes brought on by the pandemic. The crew’s struggles are captured through their growing confinement, using their phones as a link to the outside world.
An important aspect of An Unfinished Film is its focus on the pandemic experience, particularly the crew’s quarantine. However, the film neglects to explore the lives of essential workers who kept things running during lockdowns. Instead, Jiang and the crew often grumble about their bland meals without acknowledging those behind the scenes.
In a striking scene, Jiang fantasizes about violence against a security guard after experiencing mistreatment during the lockdown. This moment captures the complex power dynamics between the crew and hotel staff.
As the film concludes, Wuhan ends its lockdown, and the crew reconvenes, only to face the repercussions of the pandemic over the following two years. Real-life footage of protests, omicron variant blows, and public unrest flash by, but the horrific death toll from the virus remains unspoken.
Comparing today’s film landscape to the aftermath of the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests, people are still grappling with how to discuss collective trauma. In the wake of COVID, terms like “those three years” often get used to downplay experiences, as many seek to avoid the uncomfortable reality of loss.
Experts have pointed out that Lou’s film represents not just a story but a larger, unfinished narrative about Chinese society’s struggles and resilience. While the film provides a snapshot of the pandemic’s impact, it also leaves many questions unanswered—highlighting the need for more diverse and in-depth storytelling from and about the Chinese experience.
An Unfinished Film serves as a reminder of the complex history it seeks to engage with, and it invites audiences to reflect on both personal and collective healing processes. While it may not be a traditional masterpiece, it stands as a significant chapter in a continually evolving story—a narrative that is indeed still unfinished.
