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CentralChinamovieApril 30, 2026
CentralChinamovieApril 30, 2026Contains spoilers
“Living the Land”: A Homeland That Is Ancient, Impoverished, Afflicted—Yet Endlessly Alive
In February 2025, during the Berlin International Film Festival, I watched Living the Land (《生息之地》), a film directed by Huo Meng (霍猛) and produced by Yao Chen (姚晨). Only while watching did I realize that the film portrays precisely the customs and everyday life of my own hometown,Henan(河南). The familiar local accents, kinship ties and sorrows, folk customs, and interpersonal relations depicted on screen awakened my memories of the joys and griefs, births and deaths, illnesses and farewells of the elders and neighbors of my homeland.
The film’s overall tone is gray and subdued—and so, too, has been the long-term reality of life for the people of Henan. The story is set in 1991. At that time, people in Henan were still struggling for basic subsistence. After harvesting grain, they first had to queue up to hand over public grain to the government (a form of in-kind tax). They also had to give up good-quality grain to schools in order for their children to attend. Only what remained could be kept as limited rations and freely disposable portions. People worked diligently sowing and harvesting, laboring on the threshing grounds to dry grain under the sun, all the while worrying that sudden storms might ruin the harvest. This mode of life had persisted on this land for more than a thousand years, giving birth to countless generations of men and women and sustaining hundreds of millions of young and old alike.
From the village loudspeakers came broadcasts from China National Radio, reporting international news from faraway places—“Iraq attacks Kuwait,” “the collapse of Ethiopia’s Mengistu regime”—while what truly concerned the people here were weddings and funerals of relatives, whether there was rice left to cook at home, and the tuition fees needed to send children to school.
“Red affairs” (weddings and childbirth) and “white affairs” (the death of loved ones) are the matters people here value most, devote the most effort to, and observe with the most elaborate rituals. They are the paramount events for every household in ancient Henan and the Central Plains. These red and white affairs link life and death; they are the key processes through which people on this land—and on all lands of the world—reproduce and survive, transmit life and memory, maintain families and settlements, and pass down nations and cultures. This is precisely why Living the Land devotes such rich and emphatic portrayal to several funerals and celebrations, beginning with a funeral and ending with a funeral, perfectly aligning with the film’s title and central theme.
The characters in the film are vivid and alive, ordinary yet distinctive. The young protagonist, the child Xu Chuang (徐闯), has not yet had his spirit crushed by the weight of real life. He is innocent and energetic, cherished by his entire family—reflecting both the traditional preference for the youngest child and the sincere, intense familial affection characteristic of Henan’s rural culture.
The “Little Aunt” (小姨), the only major character dressed in bright colors, carries the love and dreams of a young woman, yet in the end has no choice but to, like her ancestors and many relatives, “follow the dog she marries”—to marry someone she does not love and endure an unhappy life in her husband’s family. She is a typical example of many people from my hometown who move from youthful dreams to resigned acceptance of reality.
The “Grandmother” (姥姥), Li Wangshi (李王氏), has endured decades of hardship yet continues to live with resilience and calm. She raised a large extended family; though she never even had a formal given name, her moral character surpasses that of many well-educated intellectuals. Her long life is like a quiet stream flowing on, with countless hardships softened and rendered invisible by feminine gentleness.
The “Aunt-in-law” (舅妈), who takes money from her meager income to pay school fees for the younger generation—this scene is something many children from my hometown have likely experienced. It is the older generation’s sacrifices that carve out space for the growth of the next, removing obstacles so that the rain may pass and the sky clear.
“Jihua” (计划), a person with intellectual disabilities whom nearly every village has, is mocked, bullied, and exploited, yet is kind at heart—the one who most conforms to natural instincts, without scheming or malice…
These characters and stories are precisely a microcosm of the diverse people and the joys and sorrows of life on this ancient land of Henan—a land that once had a glorious and brilliant history, has sunk repeatedly, yet continues to nurture its population and sustain life.
Some critics claim that Living the Land “displays China’s ugliness to please the West.” This does not accord with the facts. The characters and stories in the film do not present “only darkness”; they are multifaceted. What the film depicts is a faithful p
In February 2025, during the Berlin International Film Festival, I watched Living the Land (《生息之地》), a film directed by Huo Meng (霍猛) and produced by Yao Chen (姚晨). Only while watching did I realize that the film portrays precisely the customs and everyday life of my own hometown,Henan(河南). The familiar local accents, kinship ties and sorrows, folk customs, and interpersonal relations depicted on screen awakened my memories of the joys and griefs, births and deaths, illnesses and farewells of the elders and neighbors of my homeland.
The film’s overall tone is gray and subdued—and so, too, has been the long-term reality of life for the people of Henan. The story is set in 1991. At that time, people in Henan were still struggling for basic subsistence. After harvesting grain, they first had to queue up to hand over public grain to the government (a form of in-kind tax). They also had to give up good-quality grain to schools in order for their children to attend. Only what remained could be kept as limited rations and freely disposable portions. People worked diligently sowing and harvesting, laboring on the threshing grounds to dry grain under the sun, all the while worrying that sudden storms might ruin the harvest. This mode of life had persisted on this land for more than a thousand years, giving birth to countless generations of men and women and sustaining hundreds of millions of young and old alike.
From the village loudspeakers came broadcasts from China National Radio, reporting international news from faraway places—“Iraq attacks Kuwait,” “the collapse of Ethiopia’s Mengistu regime”—while what truly concerned the people here were weddings and funerals of relatives, whether there was rice left to cook at home, and the tuition fees needed to send children to school.
“Red affairs” (weddings and childbirth) and “white affairs” (the death of loved ones) are the matters people here value most, devote the most effort to, and observe with the most elaborate rituals. They are the paramount events for every household in ancient Henan and the Central Plains. These red and white affairs link life and death; they are the key processes through which people on this land—and on all lands of the world—reproduce and survive, transmit life and memory, maintain families and settlements, and pass down nations and cultures. This is precisely why Living the Land devotes such rich and emphatic portrayal to several funerals and celebrations, beginning with a funeral and ending with a funeral, perfectly aligning with the film’s title and central theme.
The characters in the film are vivid and alive, ordinary yet distinctive. The young protagonist, the child Xu Chuang (徐闯), has not yet had his spirit crushed by the weight of real life. He is innocent and energetic, cherished by his entire family—reflecting both the traditional preference for the youngest child and the sincere, intense familial affection characteristic of Henan’s rural culture.
The “Little Aunt” (小姨), the only major character dressed in bright colors, carries the love and dreams of a young woman, yet in the end has no choice but to, like her ancestors and many relatives, “follow the dog she marries”—to marry someone she does not love and endure an unhappy life in her husband’s family. She is a typical example of many people from my hometown who move from youthful dreams to resigned acceptance of reality.
The “Grandmother” (姥姥), Li Wangshi (李王氏), has endured decades of hardship yet continues to live with resilience and calm. She raised a large extended family; though she never even had a formal given name, her moral character surpasses that of many well-educated intellectuals. Her long life is like a quiet stream flowing on, with countless hardships softened and rendered invisible by feminine gentleness.
The “Aunt-in-law” (舅妈), who takes money from her meager income to pay school fees for the younger generation—this scene is something many children from my hometown have likely experienced. It is the older generation’s sacrifices that carve out space for the growth of the next, removing obstacles so that the rain may pass and the sky clear.
“Jihua” (计划), a person with intellectual disabilities whom nearly every village has, is mocked, bullied, and exploited, yet is kind at heart—the one who most conforms to natural instincts, without scheming or malice…
These characters and stories are precisely a microcosm of the diverse people and the joys and sorrows of life on this ancient land of Henan—a land that once had a glorious and brilliant history, has sunk repeatedly, yet continues to nurture its population and sustain life.
Some critics claim that Living the Land “displays China’s ugliness to please the West.” This does not accord with the facts. The characters and stories in the film do not present “only darkness”; they are multifaceted. What the film depicts is a faithful p







