‘Resurrection' Review: Bi Gan's Extravagant Act of Surrender to the Seductions of a Century of Cinema
It is, of course, a paradox to make a film that requires of the viewer the exact spirit of guileless abandon whose disappearance it is built to mourn. But then every moment of 'Resurrection' exists on the pivot of a paradox, all of which have their origin in a fundamentally paradoxical premise: a near-future (which is maybe just a curt appraisal of our post-pandemic present) in which dreams are cinema and cinema is dreams, which is bad news for both because nobody dreams anymore.
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Silent movie-style intertitles explain the almost comically unwieldy sci-fi basis, part 'Stalker,' a dash of 'Blade Runner,' all crazy, so here goes: Humankind has discovered the key to longevity is to stop dreaming – the analogy, that becomes one of the many motifs, is of a wax candle that can last forever if it is never lit. But there are some dissenters who would prefer to burn through shorter, brighter lives. Bi Gan, co-writing with Bai Xue, dubs these willful dreamers 'Fantasmers,' and explains how dangerous they are, how they 'bring chaos to history' and 'make time jump.' And so there are other individuals, called 'Big Others' who are gifted with the power to tell illusion from reality, and are sent to find the Fantasmers, who are holed up in their imaginary movie worlds, and to preserve the linearity of time by waking them up.
From the start, we are inside these nesting dream-state stories, each corresponding to a different, successive era of cinema, and each one also corresponding to one of the five senses. The silent-cinema-aping, sight-related first section functions as an introduction to the Fantasmer, played by Jackson Yee in all five of the character's different incarnations, and his pursuing Big Other played by Shu Qi, resplendent in a high-necked silk blouse of a color that, after Tang Wei's dress in 'Long Day's Journey' should hereafter be dubbed 'Bi Gan green.'
This section is also the most exquisite showcase of Liu Qiang and Tu Nan's baroquely ornamented production design, as this time the Fantasmer is an outright movie monster, a kind of Nosferatu-meets-Quasimodo, and the world he is hiding in is like an ornate dollhouse diorama of a chinese opium den, complete with stop-motion wood-cut puppets in the background. But turning a corner, it is now a German expressionist maze of canted angles and shadows, through which Shu Qi dances like Moira Shearer in 'The Red Shoes,' while the 'Vertigo' love theme — or a stretch of M83's bravura, chameleonic score that sounds incredibly like it — creates an obsessive romance between the monster and the woman sent to kill him.
Catch him she does, but as she tells us, suddenly in voiceover, she is moved by his commitment to his dream life and though she cannot change his destiny, she wishes to give him a gentle death. So she cracks him open and sets a projector device whirring inside him, which causes the Fantasmer to resurface as a handsome young man in a wartime spy noir — all fedoras and train stations and 'Lady From Shanghai' mirror shoot-outs — where he stands accused of murdering a man (Yan Nan) by stabbing him in the ear with a fountain pen. While this hearing-focused segment may be the least self-containedly coherent, it is as always elevated by some remarkable imagery: Sheet music flutters; a bomb shatters the roof of the train station; a pair of bloodied hands work a theremin.
Wax melts. The Big Other muses. The Fantasmer shows up 30 years later as a worker abandoned in a ruined Buddhist temple, where he encounters the Spirit of Bitterness (Chen Yongzhong), who has been hiding in his rotten tooth, in a loosely taste-based fable that plays like a Chinese folk tale of trickster deities pranking a hapless victim. And then, 20 years later again, the Fantasmer is a rapscallion father-figure to a young girl (Guo Mucheng), whom he trains to fake a supernatural ability to 'smell' the correct chosen playing card from a deck. And finally, it is New Years Eve, 1999, and the Fantasmer is a callow young bleached-blond hoodlum who has never kissed a girl, and the girl (Li Gengxi) is a bewitching creature in half-moon sunglasses and high-top Converse straight from a '90s Wong Kar-wai movie, who has perhaps kissed plenty of guys, but who has never bitten anybody.
Unfolding in a 40-minute long unbroken take, and taking in fistfights and shootouts and entire karaoke numbers, this segment does not have quite the same transportative levitating grace of the equivalent hair-raisingly transcendent 3D section of 'Long Day's Journey,' but it amazes in different ways. Like when the filter changes from red to blue as a window shatters or when Dong Jingsong's miraculously mobile camera stills for a spell to observe a street party in which time-lapse people move in rapid fast-motion while a silent movie plays at normal speed in the background.
Other than the trickery of time and subjectivity (and the occasional suitcase), there is little carried over from one story to the next. But with each structured as some sort of pursuit — of a murderer, of enlightenment, of a big score, of a girl — and all contained within the broader context of the Big Other's pursuit of the Fantasmer, 'Resurrection' even at its most obscure is easy to parse as a long game of chase through allusions both lofty and lowbrow, from the high art of many of its influences all the way down to the inclusion of a riddle whose solution is 'a fart.'
During the pandemic, which was when Bi Gan began to entirely reconceive the film that would become 'Resurrection,' one of the more curious side-effects of sudden isolation was the widespread epidemic of unusually vivid dreams. At the same time, the old-model cinema Bi Gan so loves is being assailed by myriad developments in technology and viewing habits, as our ability — or even desire — to immerse ourselves in art has become ever more stunted. In Bi Gan's worldview, this is an occasion for sorrow, as there is something inexpressibly beautiful about the sensorial illusion of cinema, and something inexpressibly noble about seeking refuge within it, even if that means removing yourself from reality where things, presumably, get done rather than just dreamt.
'Resurrection,' with all its extraordinarily intricate ambition is hardly what you could call a manifesto, and it will undoubtedly challenge viewers who have been trained to expect simpler structures, but for those who miss the way the movies used to act on us, it does offer up a uniquely pleasurable challenge, and a dazzlingly cineliterate lesson in the lost art of letting go.
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Business Upturn
21 minutes ago
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Global Times: GT investigates: Japan constructs image as a ‘victim of war' through WWII films, revealing distorted historical perspective
Beijing, China, Aug. 15, 2025 (GLOBE NEWSWIRE) — This year marks the 80th anniversary of victory in the Chinese People's War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression (1931-45) and the World Anti-Fascist War. With films like Dead to Rights and Dongji Rescue gaining popularity during the summer season, they have stirred patriotic sentiments among many Chinese. Simultaneously, several war-themed films have been released or re-released in Japan this summer, which focus on portraying Japan as a 'victim' suffering 'hardships' during the war, while rarely addressing Japan's historical crimes of aggression that caused huge suffering in various Asian countries. What constitutes a correct perspective on World War II （WWII） history? Can history be arbitrarily rewritten through cinema? On the day of the 80th anniversary of Japan's unconditional surrender, the Global Times presents an investigative article, exposing how Japan promotes historical revisionism through film narrative and creates a one-sided image of Japan as a 'victim of the war' so as to distort history. In a sense, this summer is witnessing a 'war of film narratives' between China and Japan. In late July, at a roadshow event for the film Dead to Rights in Shanghai, director Shen Ao told the audience that, beyond the visible war of fire and smoke, there exists an invisible war – a war of culture. 'To this day, this war has not ended; it continues to struggle online and within the public discourse,' Shen said. 'Therefore, I hope this film, these photographs, and these materials can alert the audience to distinguish friend from foe, and recognize right from wrong.' Perhaps not everyone immediately grasped Shen's warning, but a glance at Japan this summer reveals that since July, according to descriptions from Japanese media and publicly released trailers, at least seven films related to WWII have been released or re-released. Most of these films emphasize Japan's suffering as a 'victim,' while seldom mentioning Japan's historical acts of aggression and crimes. Why is there such a stark divergence in the narratives surrounding WWII between China and Japan, despite being situated within the same historical context? What historical perspective is Japan attempting to convey to its citizens and the world through its films? Some scholars studying histories of China and Japan pointed out that these Japanese WWII films, to some extent, aim to distort the narrative of the war, creating a false and biased collective memory among the populace that can essentially foster a 'collective amnesia' which allows Japan to forget its identity as a perpetrator and instead emphasize its pathos of being a 'victim.' A 'pathos factory' This summer, Chinese cinema screens have been presenting a series of films commemorating the War of Resistance. Dead to Rights tells the story of ordinary people risking their lives to preserve and disseminate photographs documenting Japanese atrocities, embodying the national spirit of 'defending every inch of our land.' Dongji Rescuerecounts the humanitarian act of Chinese fishermen rescuing Allied prisoners of war while under Japanese gunfire, offering a different perspective on the history presented in the documentary The Sinking of the Lisbon Maru. Mountains and Rivers Bearing Witness vividly portrays China's significant contributions to the global anti-fascist victory on the Eastern Front. Set for a September 18 release, 731 Biochemical Revelations exposes the heinous bacterial warfare crimes committed by the Japanese army. Yu Peng, chief director of Mountains and Rivers Bearing Witness, told the Global Times that the film extends beyond the battlefield between China and Japan to present the attitudes of countries such as the UK, the US, and the Soviet Union at different stages. From patriotic sentiment to the shared future of humanity, these currently released or upcoming works collectively shape China's cinematic portrayal of WWII history: a remembrance of suffering, but more importantly, a commemoration of justice, resistance and peace. In sharp contrast, around the same time in Japan, at least seven WWII films released or re-released have constructed a completely different historical narrative. The documentary Kurokawa no Onnatachi, which premiered on July 12, according to Japanese media, focuses on some maidens 'who were forced to 'sexually entertain' Soviet soldiers' and aims to 'show the strength of the women who publicly spoke about their tragedy,' while seldom talking about the fact that Japan waged the war as an aggressor. Similarly, Nagasaki: In the Shadow of the Flash, released on August 1, presents the tragedy of the nuclear explosion at Nagasaki through the eyes of three students, repeatedly questioning the value of life, while downplaying the fact that Nagasaki was a crucial military base for the Japanese army during WWII. Friday marks the 80th anniversary of Japan's unconditional surrender. According to Japanese media, the film Yukikaze will be released on this day. The film portrays the WWII Japanese destroyer Yukikaze as a 'lucky ship that rescued crew members,' promoting its narrative of 'saving lives during fierce battles,' while glossing over the fact that the ship was a weapon of Japan's aggression. On the occasion of the 80th anniversary of the World Anti-Fascist War, Japan has skirted around its heavier historical responsibilities, using films like these to construct a 'factory of pathos.' On social media, some Japanese viewers expressed emotion over the students in Nagasaki: In the Shadow of the Flash, who, 'in a time when the atomic bombing itself was not yet widely known,' 'faced the destruction of their city and massive casualties – an experience no one had ever endured before.' While the trauma indeed existed, these Japanese films, through single-perspective narratives, transform serious reflections on aggression and anti-aggression, war and peace, into simple laments for Japan's own 'suffering' from its defeat, said several Chinese history scholars reached by the Global Times. Xu Luyang, the screenwriter of Dead To Rights, told the Global Times that Japan has yet to offer a sincere apology or face up to history objectively and honestly. Although 80 years have passed since the war, attitudes and understanding of the war reflect the subjective tendencies of people's spiritual worlds. Germany has continuously reflected on its fascist war through various aspects of national thought, law, intellectuals, and media since WWII; Japan, while having sporadic reflections, lacks a comprehensive and thorough review, standing in stark contrast to Germany, he noted. Against the backdrop of insufficient societal reflection on the war in Japan, it is unsurprising that some Japanese films, which are steeped in a 'victim mentality,' find a market in Japan. Sun Ge, a research fellow at the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences focusing on critical Asian studies and comparative ideology, attributed the lack of deep reflection on war in Japan to a 'generational fracture' that emerged in the 1960s. 'In Japan, post-war accountability has primarily been driven by those who personally experienced the war. They advocate for social reflection, emphasizing the need to understand China's position as a victim,' Sun told the Global Times on Wednesday. However, with the restructuring of the Cold War landscape, the strengthening of US-Japan relations since the 1960s, and the complex relationships between Japan and the Taiwan Straits, the continuity of this historical accountability has been disrupted across generations. With the gradual decline of reflection on history by Japanese authorities and society, a 'victim mentality' started taking its place. Industry insiders indicate that this mentality is fully reflected in many Japanese WWII films, which have become one of the main producers and disseminators of Japan's 'victimhood narrative.' Self-proclaimed 'victim' In this 'war of film narratives,' Japan frequently employs the tactic of portraying itself as a 'victim' in its films. In an interview in May 2024, Japanese director Hirokazu Kore-eda frankly said that when Japanese people make films about the war, they very often depict Japan as a victim. 'But when you look at it objectively, Japan wasn't a victim, and we're not good at admitting and dealing with our status as the aggressor. You don't really see that in Japanese films,' Kore-eda said in an article published on the website of the Cannes Film Festival on May 22, 2024. Kore-eda's observations are vividly echoed in Japan's recent WWII films. Some industry insiders and audiences may notice that these movies frequently employ several cognitive tactics to construct and amplify a 'victimhood narrative.' For example, many of these films focus on the tragic stories of certain Japanese soldiers or civilians, creating a 'pathos aesthetic' that evokes sympathy for the 'sacrificed,' thereby sidestepping the causes of the war and the essence of Japan's aggression. Additionally, many films conflate 'anti-defeat' ideology with anti-war sentiment, concentrating on Japan's 'pain of defeat' rather than reflecting on its acts of aggression. Moreover, some of these films prefer to personalize war narratives, delving into the 'growth' stories of one or several Japanese individuals during the war, while downplaying discussions of national culpability. These tactics are evident in recently released films. A Chinese moviegoer in Japan who goes by the name 'Sun' shared with the Global Times her thoughts after attending a preview screening of Yukikaze. She said that despite the film's star-studded cast, she found it difficult to empathize with the content. 'The plot is dry, overly sentimental throughout, and even laughably ridiculous in some parts,' Sun said. A few critical voices have also emerged on social media regarding recent Japanese WWII films, including some sober reflections on history. 'Convey [the reality of] war without beautifying it,' one Japanese netizen commented on X on August 6. 'War must never be repeated.' There are still voices within Japanese academia and civil society calling for honest acknowledgment and reflection on the country's history of aggression. Unfortunately, amid Japan's generally right-leaning social climate, these voices often go unheard, with the truth of history drowned out by nationalist rhetoric. Sun told the Global Times that today, most Japanese born after the war don't feel a responsibility for the war. Although exceptions exist, such as the renowned 'Article 9 Association' dedicated to preserving anti-war and peaceful thought, these voices remain marginal in mainstream discourse in the country. The overall silence in Japanese society regarding historical reflection is due not only to the right-leaning atmosphere, but also to a collective tendency to evade these issues. 'Anti-war stances inherently require presenting the complexity of reality, which entails self-criticism or reflection. For both the media and the public, this is an arduous task – yet for various reasons, the (Japanese) public often shies away from confronting these issues,' Sun said. During an interview with the Global Times, Wang Guangsheng, director of the Japanese Culture Research Center of Capital Normal University, referenced the perspective of Japanese scholar Masaki Nakamasa in his work that can be translated as Japan and Germany: Two Traditions of Postwar Thought. Nakamasa contends that Germany's earnest postwar reflection was, in essence, 'born of necessity,' as it was compelled to improve relations with neighboring nations to secure space for development. In contrast, under the US-Japan alliance framework, Japan's geopolitical reality eliminated the imperative to seek forgiveness from victimized nations like China and South Korea, objectively diminishing incentives for profound remorse, Wang said. Furthermore, disparities in postwar tribunals created unresolved historical burdens: German war criminals faced explicit accountability for crimes against peace, war crimes, and crimes against humanity. Japan, however, lacked comparable judicial processes, with its government frequently evading responsibility by invoking 'sovereign immunity,' resulting in its lack of a clear understanding of its own culpability, the expert said. 'Collective amnesia' in Japan The prevalence of Japan's 'victimhood narrative' regarding WWII on the screen is regarded as an inevitable result of the country's long-standing rightward political shift and the pervasive influence of historical revisionism. Ryuji Ishida, a scholar of modern and contemporary Japanese history, told the Global Times that contrary to the notion that 'historical revisionism [only] emerged as a significant trend in the 1990s after the collapse of the Cold War,' the view that 'conservative and right-wing factions of historical revisionism have always been mainstream (in Japanese society) aligns more closely with reality.' In July, the Global Times conducted field interviews in Tokyo and Nagano, Japan, discovering a severe gap in Japanese youth's awareness of their country's modern history of aggression. For example, at the Iida City Peace Memorial Hall in Nagano Prefecture, which permanently exhibits physical evidence of the infamous Unit 731's human experiments, students in the nearby study area were completely unaware of its existence; young Japanese visitors to the notorious Yasukuni Shrine treated it as just a normal shrine, with no understanding of its ties to Japan's war of aggression. This 'collective historical amnesia' is closely tied to Japan's long-promoted 'victimhood narrative.' Recently, Japanese football star Keisuke Honda sparked widespread controversy after initially denying the Nanjing Massacre, then later admitting his mistake after reviewing historical materials. However, after coming under attack from some right-wing netizens in Japan, he claimed that further research was needed and no conclusion could be drawn. Some scholars on China-Japan relations believed that Honda's farce was a stark manifestation of the pervasive influence of Japan's long-standing cognitive infiltration of the 'vicitimhood narrative,' and the tragedy of the 'collective amnesia' in the country. In an environment characterized by collective avoidance and 'amnesia,' lots of Japanese war films, whether intentionally or unintentionally, have become cognitive tools for Japan to gloss over its historical transgressions. Many viewers may have noticed that in this 'war of film narratives' surrounding WWII, numerous Japanese films tend to focus on 'playing the victim' and 'emotional manipulation,' while many Chinese films on similar themes generally document history and restore the truth in an objective way. This represents one of the most significant differences between Chinese and Japanese films on WWII. Xu, the screenwriter of Dead to Rights, noted that photographs in his film symbolize the 'revelation of truth,' which remains a core dispute between China and Japan regarding the Nanjing Massacre. 'A country that once committed heinous crimes and launched brutal aggression against China, yet refuses to acknowledge its past is our close neighbor. ' From this perspective, Xu said that the film's revelation of truth is 'undoubtedly a form of resistance and a counterattack.' Regarding Japan's wartime actions, there is considerable public consensus on Japan's victimhood, such as the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the air raids across Japan, regarding which the suffering inflicted by war is widely acknowledged, said Japanese Communist Party member and House of Councillors member Taku Yamazoe. 'Yet, eight decades later, Japan has failed to reach a consensus on its role as a perpetrator. I believe this stems from the government's reluctance to squarely acknowledge its responsibility,' Yamazoe told the Global Times. Prior to the publication of this article, some Japanese media had reported that Japanese Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba had decided to forgo delivering an official statement on the 80th anniversary of Japan's unconditional surrender, unlike his predecessors. Instead, he would issue 'personal views.' However, it remained undecided when and in what form this would be presented. On August 6, the official account of the US Embassy in China claimed in a post on Weibo that 80 years ago on August 6, the US and Japan ended a devastating war in the Pacific. Yet for the past eight decades, the US and Japan have stood shoulder to shoulder in safeguarding peace and prosperity in the Pacific region. This statement was met with ridicule and criticism from many Chinese netizens who said that such a post misleadingly suggests that the US and Japan had joined forces to end the Pacific War, thereby seriously distorting history. These 'news developments' have added increasing weight to the 'cultural war' warning issued by director Shen during the roadshow for Dead to Rightsat the end of July. They also serve as a reminder to Chinese filmmakers, that the role of cinema is not only to document a period of history, but also to solidify a nation's correct understanding of that history, and to showcase the conscience that ought to be shown. Company: Global TimesContact Person: Anna Li Email: [email protected] Website: City: Beijing
New York Post
3 hours ago
- New York Post
Humanoid machine face-plants at China's inaugural ‘robot Olympics'
A robot drew cheers from the packed crowd at China's inaugural World Humanoid Robot Games — until it spectacularly face-planted and had to be hauled off stage by two real people. The pratfall during Thursday's opening ceremony in Beijing offered a fitting window into the limitations of the machines during the three-day showcase of robotic ambition. More than 500 humanoid robots from 280 teams across 16 countries gathered to compete in everything from soccer to sprinting, with mixed results. 4 A humanoid robot face-plants at China's first World Humanoid Robot Games, prompting two humans to carry it off stage. ABC Teams from the United States, Germany, Japan and Brazil brought their mechanical athletes to compete alongside Chinese universities including Tsinghua and Peking, plus three ambitious middle schools. But the robots had other plans. During soccer matches, four mechanical players crashed into each other and collapsed in a tangled heap of metal limbs. In the 1,500-meter dash, one sprinting robot suddenly toppled mid-stride at full speed, drawing gasps and unexpected cheers from the crowd, who paid between $25-$80 to witness the future of artificial intelligence. 'We come here to play and to win. But we are also interested in research,' said Max Polter from Germany's HTWK Robots football team, affiliated with Leipzig University of Applied Sciences. 'You can test a lot of interesting new and exciting approaches in this contest. If we try something and it doesn't work, we lose the game. That's sad but it is better than investing a lot of money into a product which failed.' 4 While several robots took a spill and needed help getting up, many managed to recover on their own. ABC The opening ceremony mixed genuine technological achievement with comedic mishaps. Robots danced to hip-hop music, performed martial arts and played musical instruments including keyboards, guitars and drums. Some executed backflips and celebratory cheers like real athletes, while others demonstrated soccer skills and boxing moves. One robotic soccer player managed to score a goal after several attempts, causing the humanoid goalkeeper to dramatically fall to the ground in apparent despair. Another player tumbled but impressively stood up without human assistance, earning applause from spectators. Despite frequent falls requiring human helpers to right the toppled machines, many robots demonstrated the ability to recover independently. 4 A mechanical sprinter runs during the event, drawing gasps and cheers from the Beijing crowd. WU HAO/EPA/Shutterstock Organizers emphasized that these public failures provide valuable data for developing practical applications in factories and assembly lines. Soccer matches help train coordination abilities that could prove useful for collaborative manufacturing operations requiring multiple robotic units to work together, commentators explained. China is pouring billions into humanoid robotics as the nation confronts an aging population and escalating technological competition with the United States. The country has staged multiple high-profile robotics events recently, including what it claimed was the world's first humanoid robot marathon and the opening of retail stores dedicated to mechanical workers. 4 A humanoid boxer squares off in the ring, showcasing China's AI-powered robotics ambitions despite frequent mechanical mishaps. WU HAO/EPA/Shutterstock Morgan Stanley analysts noted a surge in public attendance at recent robot conferences compared to previous years, suggesting widespread Chinese embrace of what experts call 'embodied intelligence.' A government official quoted in the state-run People's Daily declared that every participating robot 'is creating history' during the event. Whether that history involves graceful athletic achievement or spectacular mechanical failures remains to be seen. With Post Wires
San Francisco Chronicle
4 hours ago
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Michelle Yeoh brings Chinese blockbuster 'Ne Zha 2' to life in English dub
When Michelle Yeoh first saw 'Ne Zha 2' in Hong Kong, she walked away dreaming about a dubbed version. The Chinese blockbuster, which this year became the highest-grossing animated film of all time with over $2.2 billion in ticket sales, had seemed to her like an ideal movie for a global, all-ages audience. But even she, who had the benefit of knowing Mandarin, was having trouble keeping up with the subtitles and all the spectacular things happening on screen. How would a kid stand a chance? The Oscar winner, who is fluent in English, Malay and Cantonese, wasn't alone in thinking a dub was a good idea. The film studio A24 was already making plans to broaden the audience with an English-language version in collaboration with CMC Pictures. Not too long after, Yeoh got a call asking if she wanted to voice Ne Zha's mother, Lady Yin. Her response? 'Hell yes,' she told The Associated Press in a recent interview. The English-language dub opens in over 2,500 North American theaters on Aug. 22. The film tells the story of a rebellious little child, Ne Zha, born as the reincarnation of a demon to mortal parents, who is out to prove his fate is not predetermined. In the first film, he sacrifices himself. In the second, he's put to the test to try to save his friend and his village. Don't worry if you haven't seen the first either — the sequel tells the audience everything they need to know. And while this character might be new to American audiences, the mythology is well known in China. Yeoh grew up watching various TV and movie versions, but had never seen it done so vividly. The making of 'Ne Zha 2' took five years and required the work of some 4,000 people from 138 Chinese animation companies. The finished film, which runs an epic 143 minutes, includes 2,400 animation shots and 1,900 special effects shots. 'I think the director and his amazing team, they pushed all the boundaries,' Yeoh said. 'They created this magical world that I hadn't seen to this level of superb animation before. The intricacies are mind-blowing.' Yeoh also put her stamp of approval on the translation, which she admits is a tricky art. 'With translation, a lot of the times the nuances are lost, right? Because also you have to sync and find the right number of words to say the same thing. And with the Chinese language, especially with the folklores and things like that, the way they say it is very poetic as well. So it is not easy,' she said. 'I think they struck a very good balance of not making it too classical, but also more contemporary.' North American audiences already showed interest in 'Ne Zha 2" earlier this year, when the subtitled version earned over $20 million. Some Chinese communities in the U.S. even rented theaters to screen the film. Now, Yeoh believes that the English version will help it resonate globally. 'It's such a universal language of family, of love, of the underdog, of someone who's ostracized, misunderstood just because you're born different,' Yeoh said. 'It immerses you into our culture. And it's such a beautiful way to cross that bridge.'
