Return to Dust

This 2022 movie is making headlines in its native China, and not for the reasons you might expect. For starters, the film’s ending was a note of contention for editors, who directed some changes in the process. And then there’s the fact that it has been pulled from streaming services in the country, leading some to wonder why such a strict rule has taken place.

I can only speculate, but I suspect it might be because of the way it shows how women are depicted in the country. In the film, Cao Guiying is beautiful and headstrong, but her age (not forgetting the fact that she is infertile) causes some to suspect she will never marry. Her family considers Ma Youtie to be a compatible suitor, and a marriage is arranged between the two parties. The pair are lucky that their town boasts a collection of unused houses, but little by little the houses are destroyed, and the couple are forced to live on their modest wages in the hope of building some sense of family. For all Youtie’s efforts to do well by his wife, he is hampered by bad luck and a genuine lack of business acumen, causing him to doubt his value as a husband and an earner.

At 133 minutes, the film is a little too long, and it could have done with a trim of 20 minutes, but what emerges from the screen isn’t necessarily a story of great substance, but a document of two unfortunate people, doing what they can in a world that makes their lives more difficult. The lead performances are excellent, although Hai Qing (Guiying) wins by a hair’s breadth, showing a vulnerability that stems from her gender and her surroundings. Wu Renlin (Youtie) comes into his own later on in the film, especially as the film comes to its tragic close, centering on the work that has offered him nothing but trouble in his wake.

What could have been overblown and pompous actually turns out to be elegiac and quietly lyrical, because the film focuses on the little moments and little glances that carries most of us on our earthly journeys. There are times when the nothings feel like everything for these characters, and it’s perhaps this reality that has caused the Chinese authorities to view this film as suspicious.

In cinemas on Friday, November 4th. On BFI Player and Curzon Home Cinema on Friday, December 16th.

Return to Dust (Yin Ru Chen Yan)

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China might have made massive economic advances in the last few decades, but what of the people caught between the cracks of the country’s huge economic achievements? Li Ruijun looks at a simple farmer couple in northernmost Gansu, creating a poetic tale that unfolds with the simplicity of a fable.

Ma (Wu Renlin) and Guiying (Hai Qing) didn’t have much say in their marriage, arranged by their respective families, but slowly warm to each other anyway. She is severely disabled, unable to hold her bladder, while he is very taciturn, happiest when working the field. Their relationship is sweetly rendered by Ruijun, whether it’s the way they cook for each other, keep one another warm or imprint the shape of a flower on each other’s skins with individual grains. You won’t hear phrases like “I love you” or see them making love or cuddling, yet the love they have for each other is self-evident. But they are hopelessly, bitterly poor, their poverty viewed by others in the community as more of a hindrance than a problem to be solved. This pride and passion eventually clashes against a world that seemingly has no more use for them.

This is a sad yet dignified story, buoyed by slow cinema techniques that rarely cut away. Shooting with a boxy frame, the beauty and toil of working the land gains epic dimensions, the characters often dwarfed by the sky behind them. The pain and reward of their lifestyle is rendered in unwavering detail, the camera utilising long takes in showing the process involved in farming. With so many films using computer generated effects almost without thought, there is something epic about the physicality and realism of the landscapes and the way they are transformed here.

Both Renlin and Qing turn in fine performances — there is a real skill in being able to play people with so little without delving into caricature or moral simplicity. Ruijun doesn’t have any grand speeches or wider sociological screeds, but seems to simply observe, allowing the audience to draw their own conclusions.

The film asks: who are these rapid changes for and why are people being left behind? When offered an apartment Ma points out that there would be no space for his trusted donkey, pigs and chickens. But when you’re proceeding on a so-called Grand Plan — the likes of which the Chinese government loves to implement — considering every individual’s problems simply isn’t an option. With so much Western focus on China on its huge population and staggering technological advances, Ruijun invites us to zoom in and focus on the minutiae of rural life, with people kept in a trap of poverty through no fault of their own. The final result is quietly devastating; there’s no bang, but a long sad whimper.

Return to Dust plays in competition at the Berlin Film Festival, running from 10-20th February.