All language subtitles for Jia.Zhangke.A.Guy.from.Fenyang.2014-BluRay

I have such appreciation
for the camera

for without it,

I could not capture
the details of life

and I would be left
with all I feel inside.

What is precious is here,

in this human ocean.

If you look at each one
of these faces,

You discover each individual
in his dignity.

The camera allows me
to bring this to light,

to make this reality alive onscreen.

Otherwise, it would remain
a simple personal impression.

Maybe it's over there.

I remember it was not
that close.

You had to walk a bit.

Everything's changed!
The karaokes are closed.

Not one is left.

Now all you see are the huge
karaoke franchises.

- Look, it must be this yellow door.
- Yes.

I'm sure you climbed up here.

On this side.

- No, this side of the street.
- Wasn't the karaoke here?

Remember, you two
climbed these stairs.

- Zhangke.
- Hello.

- You recognise me?
- Not really.

Professor Wei, I worked with
your father at the Qianjin school.

- Wei Jingguo.
- Professor Wei.

- What are you doing?
- Making a film.

Yes? Let's take a picture.
We've missed you here.

When you were little,
we saw each other often.

I worked with his father
at the Qianjin School.

Hello!

- Let's take a picture together.
- All right.

Wang Hongwei,
can you take our picture?

He's like a nephew to me.
I worked with his father.

- You're against the light.
- The light?

Over here.

Zhangke is back!

Your faces are in the shade.
Move over here.

One, two, there!

Another one.

Where are we going?

Maybe I shouldn't have worn
my high heels today.

Why don't you go upstairs?
You'll be even higher.

I immediately thought of
Wang Hongwei for the lead role,

because of his very
particular body language.

We took Cinema Theory
classes together.

One day, in performance class,

we were acting
and made our professor furious.

He hated our work.
Well, we were lousy.

He said, "Jia Zhangke,
Wang Hongwei and Gu Zheng,

"lie down and pretend
you're dead.

"I want to see if you
can manage that!"

All three of us lay down
and remained still.

The teacher said, "OK, you're
lying down, what about acting?"

Oh, so we're not completely dead?
We began to move.

The teacher said,
"Your movements are forced."

A total catastrophe,
we were so ashamed.

We just lost all confidence,
we felt we'd really messed up.

But since Xiao Wu, Wang Hongwei
has proven what he can do.

It proves that your choice
was a good one.

I think it's connected
to the type of films we do,

the style, the hand-held camera,

with exterior shots,
dialogues in dialect, etc.

Since we'd been working
before starting school

we had life experience,

we knew what life
was about in China.

I'd like to tell you a secret.

These rooms,
know what they used to be?

Before we moved here,
this was Fenyang prison.

The walls are really thick.

When I was a bad boy,

my mother threatened
to lock me up.

This courtyard was like
a closed universe, all ours.

Excuse us, we just want to look.

It hasn't changed much.

I'll clean up a bit.

Can we turn on the lights?

Here?

When did you move here?

Us? Two years ago.
This is my uncle's house.

Zhang Chengzheng?
He came here when we left.

- Are you from Gaojiazhuang?
- No, from here.

Look how thick this wall is.

- Can I see the bedroom?
- Yes, yes.

Here was the "kang", the bed
where our family slept.

And there was my father's desk,
against the window.

From all the books on the wall
you could tell he was a professor.

It's been...

It's been 29 years
since I was here last.

My mother likes to say
I was fed by "100 families".

Why? For example,
at noon for lunch,

I'd take a little bowl

and go check out the food,
family to family.

And when I saw something I liked,

I'd sit at their table
and wouldn't go home to eat.

Before, there were no walls
between homes, nor doors.

Now there are lots
of walls and doors.

It's been so long!

You were so small.
Now you are Zhangke.

Lailai, I'm still Lailai...

Yes, Lailai,
Jia "Bad Bad".

Jia "Bad Bad".

A lot of people don't know
your real name.

But everyone knows Lailai.

In the street, it was Jia Lailai.

When you were on TV, my son said,
"Look, Mum, looks like Bad Bad."

She means her son, Shuanniu.

- Oh, Shuanniu?
- Shuanniu had a car accident.

Really?

He was hospitalised,
but he's better.

Yes, such a nice guy.

He took care of me
when I was little.

You were on TV
and they came to get me.

"Look, Lailai!"

Is Auntie Zhao gone too?

Zhaosi took her
to live in an apartment.

I see...

She just turned 80.

How many children
do you have?

- I don't have children.
- Not yet?

Not yet. I plan to have some soon.

- Over 40 and still no children?
- It's about time, no?

I'm 43, I should hurry up.

- Is your mother well?
- Yes.

- Is she over 70 now?
- She's 73.

My God, I saw you grow up...

Ask him to pay.

Can you pay for your ticket?

I'm a policeman.

At the time,

most thought we should
stop school on 3rd grade.

When a child could
read and count,

he should quit school.

But a child who quits
school at that age

can't find work.

So a lot of my friends
became thieves.

I don't mean one or two,
but eight, ten people.

When I was little,

there was a popular film

Awara by Raj Kappoor, 1951,
an Indian film.

The story was about a thief.

Our teacher,
who lived next door,

heard us singing the theme song.

That afternoon, in class,

he had us stand up,

pointed at us and asked,
"Do you want to become thieves?"

He forbade us to sing
that song.

But I still remember it.
It goes like this, more or less,

"I roam, here and there..."

"A rambler's fate is sad"

I'm a rambler

A rambler's fate is sad

I'm a rambler

I won't disguise who I am

I'm a rambler

I remember the first film
that we saw together

was Dong Cunrui,
Guo Wei, 1955.

The film tells the story of a hero
of the People's Liberation Army.

In one battle, he transports dynamite
to explode a bridge or blockhouse.

A bridge.

He gets to the bridge and finds
nothing to lean the dynamite on.

So he holds onto the dynamite
and blows himself up with the bridge.

When the hero pushes the release,
there was a huge silence in the room.

All of a sudden,
the student leader burst into tears.

We looked at her to understand
what had happened.

Back in our classroom, the teacher
complimented the little girl.

He said the revolutionary hero
had moved her,

and she must love him a lot.

We were all ashamed
not to have cried.

Yes, really ashamed.

You'd never know
I filmed Platform here!

It has completely changed.

Before, this theatre was indoors.

The only thing about the same
is this stage.

Because my father directed plays
at his school.

Following my father around,
I spent most of the time

backstage, watching actors
preparing for the show.

Whether in Platform
or The World,

subconsciously I revealed
my passion for the backstage.

I love what happens
before a show.

Now the Peasant Culture Group
from Fenyang will perform

The Train Heading for Shaoshan.

A southbound train

races across the sunny land.

It's heading for Shaoshan!

Chairman's Mao's hometown!

Look, here they come!

Wheels flying, whistles blowing

Train heading for Shaoshan!

Over mountains, across rivers

Towards the radiant sun

It should be here, no?

Yes, it was here.

It hasn't changed as much.

I remember the scene
was not planned.

Some locals came
and worked as extras.

I found their faces expressive.

I asked them to place themselves here,
to smoke and chat.

And it ended up being
the first scene in the film.

I liked their interaction
and began to secretly film them.

What happened
to those extras?

They wore kind of a soldier's uniform,
all green.

The guy who opened the door
to us was an extra.

Really?

He remembers it still.

For people of our generation,
Platform covers an important period:

1979 to 1989.

I think, to a degree,
it's an epic film,

a panoramic work for those
studying Chinese history.

Whereas Xiao Wu
is the portrait of an individual

in a specific social context,

Platform shows the transformation
of Chinese youth over a longer period.

I think personally I prefer Platform.

I was born in 1970.

Throughout the Cultural Revolution
and until the age of eight or nine,

I had never heard pop music,
all we heard were revolutionary songs.

You know what they called
pop songs at that time?

"The sound of decadence".
They were considered languid, lifeless.

It was just the opposite
of revolutionary music.

They were criticised
because their melodies were soft.

But we listened, and all young people
began to appreciate this type of music,

because the themes
were about love.

What kind of songs
did we have before?

We sang "Workers, we have power.
We are the heirs of communism",

"Union is power".

Most of them spoke of "us".

But when we secretly listened
to radio programs from Taiwan,

we'd hear songs by Teresa Teng like
"The moon represents my heart".

Which, instead of saying "us",
said "I".

Honestly, I never could have
imagined what happened to me.

It was 1998, I had just graduated
from the Beijing Dance Academy,

and was teaching at the Taiyuan
teachers' training academy.

That day, going to the classroom,
I met a group of people.

There were only men.

They looked strange:
heads shaved, long hair or beards.

I thought they must be going
to the fine arts department.

Then I saw them turn
toward our department.

There, the director
told me they were making a film,

that they were casting and
wanted to use one of my students.

I said that was no problem
and began my class.

I gathered all my students.

I didn't say they were casting,

but I hoped they would
give their best today.

After about an hour and a half,

an assistant came to tell me

that the director wanted
to work with me.

Coincidence!

No, I saw you.

I saw you too.

My father would too,
let's go down.

A neighbour told me that the area

where we had filmed
would be demolished.

Until then, I thought Fenyang
had changed a lot,

but the central zone where I grew up
had remained unchanged.

If they tore down these
houses and courtyards

there would be nothing left
of my childhood memories.

That would have frustrated
and depressed me.

However, it is hard to prevent change,
practically impossible.

What I can do is record
everything in my films.

DEMOLITION

Is this the big move?

The whole block's being
pulled down.

If the old stuff doesn't go,
there'll be no new stuff.

The old stuff's being pulled down,
but I see nothing new.

Our courtyard
is what I miss the most.

This tea has no colour.

It didn't brew long enough.

In courtyard five, our house
hasn't changed much.

Just the two apple trees are gone.

They planted grapes.

And the lilac I planted?

It's been gone a long time.

The lilac you planted is gone.

They planted a peach tree there.

No more lilacs.

The apple trees are gone.

It's sad those trees are gone,
they gave so much fruit.

When we lived in the courtyard,
there was no running water.

We used well water.

He was so little
and he'd fetch the water.

He wouldn't let his father go.

So his father found him
a small bucket.

That really offended him.
He was ashamed to be seen with it.

He only wanted a big bucket.

I always say he stopped growing
because he carried too much weight.

Ready yet, Ma?

Can't you make yourself useful?

More chores?

Have you asked brother?

Who's the elder, you or him?

You should've had him first then.

Shouldn't have had you at all!

We're different!

I'm an artist, I use my brain.

Really?

Here, you follow orders.

Then I'll stop coming home.

Yes, society needs you,
live outside!

- If you won't feed me, the Party will.
- Get out!

In our time,

especially our generation,

our first lesson was
"Long live president Mao!"

We didn't have access
to interesting things.

I remember learning
Tang and Song poems by heart

when my father had
my little brother recite them.

There were so many books in the house
at a time when they were so rare.

We had a cabinet full of books.

My brother and I, as soon
as we got home from school,

waiting for dinner,
we'd race to the library to read.

These were all books
collected by my father.

Once when I was little, my father
took me to climb one of these walls.

The wall looked very high. We
climbed up in spite of the strong wind.

From the top we could
see a road far away.

In the 70s there were
practically no cars.

We waited a long while
before seeing a car on that road.

I think my father
had tears in his eyes.

At the time I didn't
understand his reaction.

But a few years later,
I lived alone in Fenyang

and I also felt this limitation.

I also felt that,
on the other side of the wall

of the fortified town,
there was immense space,

an inspiring world
that I probably would never know.

That created a sensation
of enormous solitude in me

that we find in Platform
as a deep emotion in the characters.

Even though I lived 23 years
in the Shanxi, I didn't know my region

because I had no frame
of reference.

I knew nothing about my country
or my way of life, really.

Then when I left the country
and was away long enough,

in Beijing, Paris or New York,

I began to think about this land.

I began to better understand my country
and people's relationships.

I began to understand
society, my family,

my school friends
and the poverty of my country.

I began to understand
a lot of things.

If I can now claim my country
it's because I left it for a time.

The park is open daily
from 9am to 10:30pm.

The park presents famous sites
from five continents for your pleasure.

I'm on the train.

Did Erxiao buy food?

I'm going to India.

Erxiao!

SEE THE WORLD WITHOUT
EVER LEAVING BEIJING.

I love this place,
it resembles a theatre stage.

As if we all lived in this décor.

In 2003 and 2004, the Chinese
economy was booming.

In Beijing, you saw a huge number
of McDonalds and Starbucks opening.

The ads were the same in Hong Kong,
Taipei, Seoul or Bangkok.

I feel that the cities in the world
share the same décor.

I remember a morning in Bangkok,
I was going to the airport.

On the way, I saw the same signs,

the same ads as in Beijing,
only the language was different.

I suddenly had a doubt,
I wondered if this was globalisation.

Does globalisation
mean Americanisation?

One, two, three, "cheese"!

Another one!

Come a little closer.

This world is virtual, imaginary.
Completely utopian.

In a way, these parks
are like the internet,

they offer us
another living space.

We cross borders,

we freely travel
from one country

to another
without any constraints.

Except that the apparent openness
of this park or the world

reveals, in contrast, even more
our feelings of solitude.

One day when I was already
working as an actress,

I went to Hong Kong
with the director.

When we got to Shenzhen,
I saw the Eiffel Tower,

the one from
the "Window to the World" park.

When I saw it,
it took me back,

and I shared anecdotes from my life
as a dancer there with Jia.

Stories about school friends.

It was a time when we flirted
with enthusiasm.

I told him about dancers
who in this environment,

seemed to be living it up,
although they were very alone.

I told him many stories.

In the moment,
he did not react much.

But the following year,

Jia said he would film these stories
and it would be called The World.

I asked him if that was true
and he said yes.

For me, playing the role
of Zhao Xiaotao

was telling my own story.

All the joys and pain
of this dancer,

of this young woman who lives
a dancer's life are in the film.

During filming in the theme park,
I met several teachers from the time

when I was an intern, and also
old friends who had remained there.

It broke my heart to see

that after seven years,
they were still living the same life.

My sister moved to Ulan Bator
after she married.

I haven't seen her since.

I'm trying to save the money
to go and visit her.

That's my... my dream.

My sister taught me this song.
It binds me to her.

Now I want to teach it to you.

I don't need to introduce
Mr Jia Zhangke,

you all know him,
he's a celebrity.

But for me...

he's above all a thinker.

And he has yet another identity:

he is professor of experimental art
at the Central Academy of Fine Arts.

Our other guest today

is an artist,

a film critic,

and an excellent film editor.

It is Professor Lin Xudong.

I don't know if you've seen Jia's
first films, Xiao Wu, for example.

One characteristic is the use
of pop music as a narrative element.

One of my friends concluded that
Jia's films resembled Indian Cinema.

Jia's films tell everyday stories.

Jia, what put you on this path?

Instinct, or something else?

I realised that daily life no longer existed

When I was studying film,

in Chinese films after '49.

Human weakness,
spontaneous physical movement,

even the language had changed.

None of the characters
onscreen had accents.

There was no more native land,
no cultural identity.

Everyone spoke
like a radio announcer.

I believe most Chinese
resemble the people in my films.

A university professor,
a lawyer, an accountant,

labourers or farmers
have equal standing in my films.

You might call the characters in my films
"non-holders of power".

They have no control
over society's resources.

They are subject to our era.

I consider myself in this situation.

I've always wanted to film
labourers' lives,

especially with the transition
from planned economy

to the market economy
of the '90s.

Many people lost their jobs,

and, after having held
central positions in society,

they became marginalised.

From that point on, there were
no more labourers in China.

Why are there no more labourers?

Because the life of a labourer
is closely tied to that of his factory.

His education,
that of his children,

his benefits, his retirement,

everything is tied to the factory.

That's what a labourer is.

By changing jobs,

labourers no longer have
emotional ties to their factory.

They go from factory to factory.

I then began to wonder

if it were possible to make a film

involving a response

to this period
of urgent transformation.

Why is the factory
being demolished?

Because it is situated
in the centre of town,

an enormous site,

and that productivity
at the factory is low.

So they sell the site
to a powerful real estate firm,

that will make a huge profit.

That's how I realized
the power of

land speculation in today's Chinese
economy.

Do you think you'll ever
make more mainstream films?

How many people
are there in the world?

Six billion.

I don't think we need to discuss
majority or minority

to measure one's public.

Because in fact,

when you make a film,

you're trying to connect
with other human beings.

You cannot divide humans between
the people of Beijing and immigrants,

Chinese or foreigners,

Asians or westerners.

"Professor! I don't have a question.

"I just wanted to give you
a little paper plane".

I don't have anything to add.

I just want everyone to see
A Touch of Sin as soon as possible!

None of the three films that preceded
The World were distributed in China.

I was very surprised when I first saw
a pirated DVD of one of my films.

The man said, "This afternoon
I'm getting a great film

"by a director called Jia Kezhang.
The title is Platform. Interested?"

I was shocked.
"Really?"

"Come by at two or three
this afternoon, I'll have it then."

So I came back. There was a huge pile
of brand new Platform DVDs.

It's as if your child goes missing,
you've looked everywhere for him,

and end up finding him
at someone else's house.

A very complex emotion.

But it's thanks to pirated DVDs

that so many people
have seen the films

and that critics began
to talk on the net.

I remember once
when the Cinema Bureau

had gathered
the forbidden directors.

I remember telling them,

"You should not prevent a director
from expressing himself

"because technology won't allow it."

With digital,
we can film very easily

especially now,
with DVDs, pirated DVDs.

In reality, anyone can see them.

The only constraint is that
they can't be seen in theatres.

But people can watch them
on their computers at home.

This kind of ban is useless,
why bother?

I remember a café in Beijing in 2001
that wanted to project Platform.

I was really happy and offered
to come meet the audience.

The café had made posters announcing
the projection and my presence there.

Everything sounded great
but the schedule was for 2:30pm.

When I got there I realised

that the café had transparent walls,
like a glass box.

The film was shown but with the light
of day you couldn't see anything.

Everyone tried to shut out the light

and searched for black cloth
to hang in the café.

What an ordeal!

Once that was resolved more or less,
it started raining and the café had leaks.

The projection took place
but under terrible conditions.

I was really sad and wondered why
my films couldn't be shown in theatres.

Like normal projections

with real seats, in a room
that could go dark,

equipped with the right equipment.

I was really sad.

There was an accident
in the Fenyang mine.

- When?
- Not long ago.

- What happened?
- A flood.

The mine was flooded?

A coalmine near the village.
13 people died.

Was there media coverage?

They said ten people had died.

I happened to be in Taiyuan
with a friend from the Mining Office,

who told me there were 13 dead.

I remember one day Sanming
told me he worked in a coal mine.

I often went to see my aunt
with my mother and sister.

Conversations with our aunt
and cousins were lively.

Sanming was more timid,

he didn't talk much
but always smiled at me.

He sat alone in a corner,
but loved our visits.

But we didn't talk much.

I knew working in a coal mine
was extremely dangerous,

but he had no choice.

It was fairly well paid work.
People didn't have a choice.

He called to tell me he'd like me
to play in one of his films.

I thought it would be like Platform,
just a few days

But I stayed there a month.

The Three-Gorges region
is very different from our native land,

but the everyday scenes
were familiar to me.

It's all life experience...

- What's this?
- Toffee.

White Rabbit Toffee.

For Still Life, it's more destiny
that gave birth to the film.

If I hadn't filmed the documentary
Dong just before,

if I hadn't gone to Three-Gorges
with Liu Xiaodong,

to film the men he was painting,
I might never have gone there.

Because for several years,
Three-Gorges

was the region that was the focus
of all of China and the foreign media

due to the construction of an enormous
dam.

Lean on your elbow, lay down.

We heard so much talk
every day in the news

that I didn't want to focus
on the issue.

But when I got there to film
the documentary with Liu Xiaodong,

I was impressed
by the surrealism of the place,

so many towns
would disappear under water.

There were still
a few scattered buildings.

But the town was now at this level.
Which it remained after demolitions.

As if a nuclear bomb
had exploded,

or it was damaged by an invasion
of extra-terrestrials.

The shirtless labourers were demolishing
these buildings by hand,

covered with sweat in the blazing sun;
they were full of life.

Imagine, these labourers had taken part
in the construction of the town,

and now they were tearing it down.

What a tragedy!

He barely had time
to work on the screenplay.

One major reason was how quickly
the look of the town was changing.

If he took too long
he'd have nothing to film.

Once filming was over,
each time he'd get to the editing room,

he would do reshoots.

He'd film, and if he wasn't satisfied,
he'd start again.

All in all, we did seven reshoots.

For Still Life, I was conned
at first by Jia Zhangke.

He said we were making a documentary
and asked what equipment to use.

I suggested a mini DV:
it's practical and economical.

He said there was really
no money for the film.

So we brought a small camera,

I think it was a Sony Hi-8,
and took off to make our documentary.

After a week, he said
that he actually did want

to take advantage of this
to make a fiction.

We were off to a bad start!

But in the end the little camera

gave us a good deal
of manoeuvrability.

Imagine the neighbourhoods
about to be torn down,

and that had no water
or electricity.

Thinking back, this little camera
really helped us a lot.

I had not imagined

to what point Three-Gorges
would give such beautiful sound.

I got the foreground, as well
as all the background sound.

When the boat signal went off
in those sinuous gorges,

the wave of sound
bounced off every side,

then from the other side
and from behind.

If we had been in the studio
with reverb effects or delays,

we might not have obtained

such a true sound as we did
in the actual décor.

Often Jia Zhangke comes up
with a general idea,

but we discover
the elements on-site

that give us the answers
for the scene.

It's not difficult to have an idea,
but putting it to work...

that inspiration
can't be planned.

You can have a general idea

but the many tiny components
are what make the miracle happen.

The miracle comes from the place,

the temperament of the locals,
the air density, all of that.

The moments I feel most desperate
are when filming goes well.

When there are problems filming
I'm never anxious.

When it's not going well,

I know I'm looking for something
that hasn't come to my awareness.

There's a chance it's something
totally new to me.

Suddenly I realise I'm on the path
to something unique.

But when filming goes without a glitch,
I really doubt myself.

When it all goes well, I don't have to
worry

and have no challenges to face.

Generally, it's because
I've fallen into a routine,

I've begun to work on past lessons

and I'm losing sight of innovative paths.

Sometimes I leave
some stubborn traits in my films.

In Unknown Pleasures,

the young man who tries to get up
the hill with his bike and stalls.

The shot goes on forever.

We had many solutions
to work this out.

But during filming, I was filled
with emotion and just let it roll.

That day, I chose
to trust my instinct,

without worrying about
the visual or dramatic result.

I thought of the ties this film
had with my own life.

This shot carries
a memory within it.

At a certain level,
cinema is for the public,

but at the same time
it's very personal.

There are very personal
emotions in my films.

Which way to Wujinshan?

You're there.

Highway 307?

This is it.

Actually, we live in a time of confused
values and national malaise.

That's the backdrop
to A Touch of Sin.

Just like the fate of some individuals,
confused thoughts intersect here.

These last two or three years,

especially with the popularity
of social networking,

particularly Chinese micro-blogs,
similar to Twitter,

many cases of violence
have surfaced.

At first I thought
it was a temporary thing,

because in such a vast
and populous country as China,

a lot of bad things happen.

But the more stories I hear,

I've realised that violence
has become a national issue,

a problem we must face,
that we must comprehend.

So recently I've researched

a great deal of these true stories.

Accountant Liu,
are your accounts up to date?

When Boss Jiao got hold
of the coal mine

he said 40% of the profits
would go to the village.

How much do the last
14 years' dividends come to?

Listen, back in 2001,

the village committee
signed to sell the coal mine.

Who asked you to sell it?

Was the contract discussed?

We must keep our word.

But Jiao has gotten so rich
he's even bought a plane!

He's a hard worker.

Then tell me how much you
and the chief took in bribes.

Stop, please!

Tell me how much
you took in bribes.

Open the door.

These true stories are just
the point of departure.

For example, like Dahai in the first story,

there really was someone who
killed a village leader and accountant

because of the privatisation of the
coalmines.

The interior scenes,
in Dahai's home,

were filmed in the home
of some people who live here.

- Hello, auntie.
- Hello.

I'd just like to look around.

Make yourself at home.
Has the film come out?

Not yet.

Will it be out soon?

Yes, around New Year's.

What has changed?

This is the place
we chose for Dahai.

I love the way it's set up,

especially the two windows.
That one looks onto the kitchen.

We covered this chair
with a new fabric, with a tiger motif.

Dahai writes his complaint
on the bed.

I imagined him a bachelor,

with no one to help him day-to-day.

His rifle was hidden in this armoire.

I love the feeling of disaster
and collapse we feel here.

There are still traces
of past riches.

The architectural structure is still there

but we see it after its decline.

As though the place
was now forgotten by everyone.

This degradation echoes
Dahai's situation.

He has not accepted the evolution
or transformations in his village.

He's a person who has been
overlooked and forgotten.

I feel that this place
resembles him a great deal.

It's like an old photo
of the end of the Qing,

from 1890 to 1900,
I've seen a lot of them.

It was the time
of the Boxer revolt.

They were the symbol
of violence and impulsive protest.

Dahai!

Today, the internet allows us to tell
the same story in several ways.

All you need is a blog account
to express your opinions.

But the problem is that,
even if you have a blog,

and express your ideas,
who hears you?

Is anyone really listening?

Under these circumstances,
when someone suffers

under extreme pressure
in order to survive,

in a world in which he has no means
to tell his story, no one to listen,

then violence, for him, is not only
a solution to his problems,

it's also a manifesto, a way to affirm
his existence as an individual.

I have money.

- Money can't buy everything!
- I have money!

Isn't it good enough?

It's not fucking good enough?

I'll smother you in it!

Not a prostitute?

I'll smother you in money!

Bitch!

I have fucking money!

Fuck!

Fuck you!

Isn't my money good enough?

Xiaoyu utilises violence
to preserve her dignity.

I wanted to see her
as a traditional female warrior.

It's a real drama.
She's a true tragic character.

I plunge my knife, pull it out
and aim for the face.

At that moment, to me, Xiaoyu

is the image of traditional women
justice fighters as I imagine them.

From the start, I wondered
how I would end the film.

To me, coming back to the outer wall

represented returning to ancient times.

It's a very frequent outcome
for "wuxia" characters,

the stories of old-time
justice keepers.

After having been
the talk of the town,

when they go back to normal life,
they hide.

This wall behind us dates back
to the Ming Dynasty.

It is several hundred years old
but it's still here,

It has witnessed many eras.

He brands me,
Su San, as a murderer.

I cannot defend myself.

I am forced to confess.

My tears flow.

Su San! Do you understand your sin?

Do you understand your sin?

Do you understand your sin?

My family, mostly my father's side,

was very affected
by the Cultural Revolution.

My grandfather was a surgeon.

Before the liberation
he was a doctor in Tianjin.

Then, after saving some money,

he returned to Fenyang
and opened a small clinic.

The clinic was transformed
into a little hospital.

He made a good living
at a time

when it was hard
to get health care

and this enabled him
to buy some land.

So, even though he was a doctor
and head of a hospital,

he also owned land.

When the Cultural Revolution happened

my grandfather had died

but my grandmother
was not spared and paid dearly.

Platform spans a period
going from 1979 to 1989,

in other words my adolescence.

Ten years of my life
that my father knew little of.

When the film was done,
I wanted to dedicate it to him,

to show him howl had grown.

I came home with a VCR

and showed it
to him during the New Year.

This film lasts almost three hours.

My father and mother watched it
to the end.

He didn't say a word,
then went to bed.

The next day at breakfast,

with many precautions,
I asked my father

what he thought
of my film Platform.

Without looking at me, he said,

"If the film had been shown before
or during the Cultural Revolution,

"you would no doubt have been
considered right wing.

"You would have been labelled
a counter-revolutionary.

"You would surely
have been imprisoned".

He said no more but I knew
he was concerned

and the suffering
he kept inside.

It seems my father kept a lot
of personal diaries back then.

They were discovered during
the Cultural Revolution,

In the diaries, for example,
he said that

he was not allowed to go to university
because of his family origins,

and since the diaries were discovered,
he was arrested

and sent to dig anti-aircraft shelters,
to be re-educated.

My father told me

when he came home,
after the labour camps,

he burned all his notebooks.

He had kept these diaries
since high school.

He burned everything
he had written about his life.

In 2004, The World was allowed
in theatres and we organised

a big preview showing in Taiyuan.

At the time,
he seemed a bit happier.

He believed the crisis was over

and that I was no longer in danger.

He lived with my mother
in Fenyang.

I was planning to bring them
to Beijing to live with us.

I'm the only son in the family

and according to Chinese custom,
when the parents get old

they are supposed to live with the son.

I decided we'd live together
and then left to film Still Life.

One day in 2006, when I had
finished filming

and was editing the film,
I got a phone call from my sister.

She asked, "Where are you?"

I was in Shanghai and told her so.
"Can you come home?"

"What is happening?"
"Our father is sick."

I immediately understood because,
if it was a minor health problem,

they would not have asked me
to come home.

If they asked me to come home when
I was so far away, it must be serious.

The next morning,
I took the first plane to Taiyuan.

My sister told me right away
that my father had cancer.

In 2006... in the Spring of 2006

he suddenly left us.

He had had very few
happy moments...

He worried so much about me...

and I didn't get a chance
to thank him.

Perhaps that's what
a father-son relationship is about.

I don't know.

Something like that...
My desires, destiny...

And how was your check-up?

- It's all good.
- Oh, I'm glad...

The doc just has some doubts
that are unconfirmed, right?

Just need to be careful.
For now, it's good.

What happened to you?

I have palpitations.

That's anxiety.

My guts are messed up.

I'll make a radical
decision, no doubt.

So your idea is...

For now, the choice for me
is not which project to do,

but whether to continue.

It's not about being cranky
or not wanting to,

but the feeling
I can't continue this work.

And the new work on Platform?

Stopping is stopping, completely.
Stopping everything for now.

Why Platform?

He wanted to re-edit Platform...
it would be so great.

Sometimes I think...

In Platform, the characters
dream of the outside world

And if they saw my fourth film,
The World

what would they think?

Is this the distant place
they aspired to?

Is it that other life
they'd have wanted?

Sometimes I also think...

What if Xiao Wu knew the misfortune

that plagued the characters
in A Touch Of Sin?

What would he think?

I can't say whether it would have
a positive or negative impact on him,

but that reality
would seem absurd to him.

I love the sensation of emptiness
in moments like this.

Perhaps, in a way,
these moments

have vanished from my life little by little.

From working all the time,
solving all sorts of problems.

For a while now,
I force myself to leave more often.

It's only with real solitude,
being really alone,

that you can nourish
your inspiration,

allow things to mature
and see ideas emerge.

I love those sounds...

When you hear fireworks,

you think, today maybe someone
is getting married.

Far away, people are gathered
for a ceremony.

Two or three hundred people,
sharing a meal.

That's life!

Every time I come back here,
my imagination overflows with this life.

Dear friends, let's toast Lailai!

All our school friends!

To Lailai! We're so proud!

Let's raise our glasses!

Zhangke, this time,
have the real stuff!

Toss the tea...

See you at New Year's!

To New Year's!