State of Cinema

And with this increased sensitivity, our thinking is reinforced in turn. The cinema’s darkness as an immeasurable greenhouse. When leaving this ‘tropic’ cinema experience – outside in the real world – there is an undeniable awareness, impossible to specify: something has turned, twisted; something has shifted.

I am looking for the poet’s language. I feel it, restless, like a promise. I reckon that if the language cultivates what is possible, horizons will open. I reckon that if certain poets and certain filmmakers make me euphoric, they do so through their intimate language. A rebellious and restless language. An archetypal language. A language that claws away and leaves its trace in me.

I have some good news, for everyone: cinema is in crisis. Which is hardly news, in a way, for it has continuously been in crisis throughout its existence. It is not a sign of future danger either – the future is an enigma, and it takes a lot of irresponsibility to speculate about it, to pretend to decipher its mysteries – but rather that of a seismographic sensibility to the stakes of the present. I think there is no other symptom more relevant to an art’s vitality than its constant reappraisal, in accordance with the constant reformulation of our world. The real issue would be to know whether the forces that transform the world are the same forces that transform the arts, how both feed on one another, unless they are contradictory.

Previously, images were in the world. Today, it is the world that is swimming in an ocean of images. Our real, material and unique world; woven from and overflowing with real, immaterial, numbered (made of numbers), innumerable images. If one wants to observe contemporary cinema one must place it in the context of this exponentially rising quantitative and qualitative power of images, question the role it has played and still plays.

After independent films first appeared on the Chinese cinematic landscape three decades ago, they gradually became the method of choice among young Chinese filmmakers. The large number of Chinese independent films also transformed the broader creative ecosystem by bending the constraints of China’s once-monolithic state-controlled film system. These positive developments gave many filmmakers great optimism and confidence in the future of Chinese film. In recent years, however, domestic political changes and the effects of the pandemic have essentially put a halt to the development and production of independent films in China. There are very few directors left who continue to create independent films.

The cinema that has always interested me the most and which nourishes me is a cinema which takes its time and makes you wait. It’s one that is generally created in the shadows, on the margins, on the world’s periphery; it’s a cinema that we will perhaps discover in 10, 20 or even 30 years and which will probably capture our era better than anything we were able to glimpse at the time.

Cinema, just like other art forms, and just like all the other areas of human activity, manifesting and projecting our cognitive abilities, is part and parcel of culture. It possesses the ability to present and describe notions in its own unique way, by means of its own language. This language enables us to pinpoint, describe and represent the phenomena of the world around us, as being perceived by our cognition. It means that cinema, as a territory of art, is, first and foremost, a territory open for discussion. One must not mistake this artistic territory, the space filled with intellectual projections and abstract models, with the sphere of material physical existence. I’m sorry if this statement sounds too obvious and banal. Still, I feel I have to repeat this again and again.

The magic of cinema is something which leaps out, which isn’t planned: it’s what happens beyond all the work, the materials tools, the script, etc. In my life as an actress, it’s the encounters and surprises which attract, or even enchant, me.