Cannes Dispatch – An Unfinished Film

Give or take the occasional documentary by Paris-based Wang Bing, there has been a conspicuous absence of Chinese cinema at A-list festivals for years. The pandemic is obviously a factor, but the impact of the tightened control of artistic expression in the world’s second largest film market can’t be underestimated either. This year, China seems poised for a major comeback as a slew of titles made the Cannes official selection, including Jia Zhangke’s Caught by the Tides (Competition), Guan Hu’s Black Dog (Un Certain Regard) and Peter Chan’s She’s Got No Name (Out of Competition). Probably the most low-profile of the bunch but the one that most intrigued me was Lou Ye’s An Unfinished Film, which premiered in the Special Screenings sidebar. Very little was known about this project in advance, it wasn’t even clear if it’s a documentary or narrative feature. Turns out, An Unfinished Film is a fascinating formal hybrid that deals with censorship, COVID and civil courage. It’s the work of a group of fearless artists that gives you rare insights into the challenges faced by creatives in China today.

The film opens with what appears to be candid video footage documenting the gathering of a small film crew in late 2019 to watch scenes they shot for an abandoned project 10 years ago. Director Xiaorui, his DP, sound guy and lead actor Jiang Cheng are all there, watching their younger selves on screen, trying to make magic happen in front and behind the camera. The story they wanted to tell was a gay love triangle, and in between comments by the crew looking back on their work, the film would cut to scenes from that unfinished film. These scenes are sweet in a raw, unguarded way, depicting the character played by the young Jiang Cheng in the heat of romance with another boy.

When Xiaorui brings up the idea of finishing the ten-year-old film, Jiang Cheng is reluctant at first. The world is different, what’s the point of making something that no one will be able to see, he says, alluding to the homosexual content that won’t get past Chinese censorship. But Xiaorui is able to convince him and the rest of the crew to see their passion project through to the end, so the next we see them, they are getting ready to shoot days before the Chinese New Year in February 2020. None of them could know that soon their work will be violently stopped again when a crew member gets sick.

Shot like a making-of documentary, An Unfinished Film is narrative filmmaking that imagines what director Lou Ye and his crew would have gone through had they tried to finish their queer film during COVID times. Lou’s alter ego Xiaorui is played by filmmaker Mao Xiaorui. Actor Qin Hao, a regular presence in his films, plays the lead role of Jiang Cheng. The DP, sound designer and other collaborators of Lou all play themselves (while taking charge of the technical work on the film itself). It’s a brilliant approach that pays off not just for the meta trippiness, but the urgent sense of truth it brings to a film that, for reasons of necessity, had to be staged. In the sincerest voice, it offers an unsanitized perspective on a range of subjects that feels achingly precious. Considering the sex scenes from the older film, the depictions of brutal lockdown measures and references to state censorship itself, it’s no wonder that there’s no “dragon seal” at the top of An Unfinished Film – meaning it has not obtained official approval for its festival premiere, a fact that can have consequences for the careers of all involved. In this sense, the film’s cheeky-sounding title takes on a whole new layer of meaning and poignancy.

Besides what it has to say, Lou’s film is also remarkable for how it says them. Editor Tian Jiaming’s work, especially in the first part of the film, quietly dazzles. The way he cuts between the scrappy BTS footage and the dreamy romantic scenes featuring a youthful version of the cast is masterfully smooth and creates a nostalgic tension that makes you feel the weight of reality every time we return to the present. Cinematographer Zeng Jian authentically captures the look and texture of the different types of images that make up An Unfinished Film. Shot with great naturalism and vigor, the start of lockdown at the hotel where the crew is staying buzzes with cold, triggering dread. Qin Hao is excellent playing a fictional character trying to complete the project he (Qin Hao) starred in a decade ago. The film’s second half relies heavily on footage from video calls, and his close-up’s deliver the human pulse and warmth that breathes life into the otherwise gritty, digital frames.

After Saturday Fiction (which I greatly enjoyed), it’s a surprise to see Lou Ye return to his roots of openly rebellious underground filmmaking. If Chinese-language cinema is to ever regain the heights of its 90’s heyday, where the likes of Zhang Yimou, Chen Kaige and Jiang Wen were all making groundbreaking taboo stuff, more need to join his ranks.