QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM BERLIN

Get ready to become immersed in the Chinese countryside. The year is 1991, yet these people live such an insular life, without a sign of civilisation, that this could almost be set in the middle ages. These are the rural workers of the fastest growing economy on earth. Those not yet shifted towards factory work, devoured by country’s insatiable appetite for industrialisation. These people have never seen anything but the vast flatlands, that provide them with shelter, work and nourishment. Their ashes may travel farther than their functioning bodies.

The 132-minute story is mostly viewed and occasionally narrated from the perspective of its child protagonist, 10-year-old Xu Chuang (Wang Shang). He belongs to a large clan, consisting of four generations, and relatives of countless degrees. Their trade is wheat agriculture. This is a microcosmos virtually detached from the rest of society. Their knowledge of the outside world is extremely primitive. Their biggest source of information is a tube television broadcasting state-sponsored propaganda. These people can barely name the most trivial diseases afflicting them. An auntie passes away after missing her cancer surgery. The reason? She had never used the solar months, instead relying on an old-fashioned lunar calendar, thus missing her hospital appointment.

Xu has a close connection to auntie Xiuying (Zhang Chuwen). The beautiful young woman is in love with a handsome local of roughly her age, yet they remain too shy to consummate their relationship. And he has a fraternal bond with the more outgoing Laidan (Jiang Yien), of roughly his age. He cares for his vulnerable cousin Jihua (Zhou Haotian), a 20-year-old man with a severe learning disability. The community are indifferent to his mental handicap. Instead of supporting the hapless man, they bully him relentlessly. Such harassment culminates in the movie’s most significant and visually striking scene.

The cycle of life is presented in its integrity, in line with the seasons of the year. Living the Land features severals births, marriages and deaths. These people are mostly stoical about their mortality. They have made peace with the fact that they must return to the earth that once birthed them.

Many developments are very difficult to follow, presumably requiring some knowledge of the local culture. I could never understand why Xu has a different surname (something he bemoans in the film opening), what happened to his parents, why the locals chase a pig (in a very graphic and disturbing scene in which the animal grunts in desperation), why auntie gets publicly humiliated, etc. The precise blood connection between the countless characters of the large ensemble cast is virtually impossible to follow. The plot developments – where numerous and complex – are subordinate to the visuals. The motivations of the largely flat characters remain entirely elusive.

First and foremost, Living the Land is a sensory experience. Viewers are asked to contemplate the environment, and to feel the textures of nature. As the seasons shift, colours morph from bright green and yellow to icy blue and wintry white. Guo Daming’s camerawork helps to emphasise that human beings are just one player inside this vast habitat. Wide shots prevail, with the occasional medium shot thrown in for rhythmic purposes. There are no close-ups. At times, the acting lacks spontaneity. A rotating camera persistently reminds viewers that they should focus on the immensity of the landscape instead.

While intentional, these creative choices are also a handicap. Living the Land fails to engage because it does not allow audiences to live the lives of the characters, instead insisting that we should merely observe them. And is is no significant takeaway/political message. Criticism of the communist regime remains unacceptable, in a country with strict state censorship. Exceptions remain as rare as a dodo. Or a panda bear.

Living the Land just premiered in the Official Competition of the 75th edition of the Berlin International Film Festival.