The action starts in spring 2001 in the city of Datong, in Northern China. Women sing and laugh casually in the local cafe as the flowers begin to blossom. People communicate with their loved ones through sms. It’s more or less business as usual as China joins the World Trade Organisation, with most locals remaining mostly unfazed by the news. This is a country under constant industrialisation and modernisation. People barely notice the changes. The first third of this 110-minute drama boasts many textures: low-grade archive footage, posters, vignettes, ancient mobile screens, video games, etc. It almost looks like a documentary.

Then move forward to 2006. A city is about to disappear underwater due to the construction of the Three Gorges Dam, the largest such reinforced concrete structure in the world. This is a topic addressed in Zhangke’s Still Life (2006): we watch the tragic fate of the riverside communities gradually and irreversibly submerged, and the population displaced elsewhere. Here too we observe deserted buildings, ghost towns and a lingering sense of despondency. It is under these gloomy circumstances that Qiaoqiao (played by Zhangke’s wife and muse Zhao Tao, still wearing the same yellow shirt as in many of his films including Still Life) starts a romantic relationship with the Guo Bin (Li Zhubin), a beautiful stranger whom she meets on the dance floor for the local night club. Fast forward another 15 years or so. Qiaoqiao moves to Datong in search of Guo, whose life has changed as dramatically as the country. He moved away for economic reasons. Meanwhile, the nation grapples with the pandemic.

The narrative thread of this unrequited love story is hardly discernible. At times, it feels like you are watching a non-narrative, freeform movie.

This is a film dotted with quirky pop music and impromptu dance acts, and sudden changes of tone. A mercurial affair, just like the titular “tides” suggest. The bubblegum pop music and the clumsily twerking characters are contrasted against the grey concrete buildings and the monochromatic red colour palette of communist propaganda and iconography. This is a society seeking redemption and absolution in the small daily gestures, and cheesy entertainment is one of the most accessible venting outlets for their manifold frustrations. The circularity of seasons reminds viewers that renewal is inevitable. A fast-growing China is a nation in spring, after a long winter of political isolation.

In a way, Caught by the Tides is a travelogue through Zhangke’s own career. The filmmaker released his feature film in 1997, and has since directed a further nine films. This is a highly elliptical move, flirting with documentary, and with a sombre and meditative tone interspersed with snippets of joy and humour. The directors reminds us of Mark Twain: “The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter”. Yet, this is not laugh-out-loud type of film. Instead, it will put a gentle smile on your face. This is also a film filled with intertextuality (such as Zhao’s yellow shirt, and the topic references to Still Life). At For a moment I thought that Tao was replaying an old character, but such is not the case. Those not familiar with Zhangke’s filmography, or without a basic knowledge of recent Chinese history, may feel a little lost in translation. Not an easily digestible piece of filmmaking.

Caught by the Tides premiered in the Official Competition of the 77th Cannes International Film Festival, where this piece was originally written. The UK premiere takes place at the 68th BFI London Film Festival.