The latest documentary from Chinese filmmaker Wang Bing is titled Youth (Hard Times). For anyone who watched its predecessor, Youth (Spring), in the early days of the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, or anywhere else, this news may be cause for concern. Filmed in typically anthropological detail by the master director and his team (cinematography from Shan Xiaohui, Song Yang, Ding Bihan, Liu Xianhui, and Maeda Yoshitaka; sound by Ranko Paukovic) between the years 2014 and 2019, Spring documented the lives and labors of a group of textile workers in a bustling corner of Zhili––a world of endless hours, meager pay, ruthless bosses, and worrying conditions. It looked like the kind of place where not much light gets in, regardless of the suffocating air pollution. If these were not “hard times,” you had to wonder, what are?
Picking up where Spring left off, Youth (Hard Times) is the dense middle act of what will eventually be a trilogy––a third section, titled Homecoming, is set to play in Venice––that, when all is said and done, will run more than ten hours. This will come as no surprise to anyone versed in the director’s work: nobody comes to Wang expecting brevity. What is surprising is how little variation there is over what came before. As an end scroll informs, Zhili, a city in the Northeast of China, is home to somewhere in the region of 15,000 privately run workshops that churn out affordable clothing, largely for the Chinese market. The shops are almost exclusively staffed by young people from the surrounding Anhui province, looking to pay off debts or work up enough capital to get married or build a home. Spring showed us a couple of these businesses in full operation; Hard Times largely repeats the trick, this time focusing on the wage disputes hinted at near the end of the previous installment, though appearing far more hostile this time around. Tough times indeed.
Though Wang never directly addresses the wider forces driving this manic industry––mass consumption, globalization, fast fashion, capitalism––they seem to linger just outside the frame. On the ground level, however, the director isn’t pulling any punches regarding the people responsible for all this struggle and strife. In one sequence he follows the collateral damage left when one boss runs off with his employees’ wages. More troubling, still, are the images shown of workers gathered around their building’s outdoor stairwells, looking down as another owner beats a supplier in broad daylight. In store, as tends to happen, the milieu remains hectic but largely jovial: a lively cacophony of sewing machines and marvelous dexterity paired with some encouraging, make-the-best-of-it camaraderie. Again, Wang introduces various people from Anhui and the surrounding provinces: more cool young guys in leather jackets, more lightly flirtatious coupling, and more parents of young children with, understandably, not much energy in the tank to handle them.
For each new face, and there are a few, Wang flashes a title card with the subject’s name, age, and hometown. This is Hard Times‘ main sticking point: a matter-of-fact refusal of narrativization that gives this project the significance of historical document (if not evidence) while also denying viewers a central thread to hang onto. As the workers and employers go back and forth over the pricing of each garment, the film demands a certain level of focus; just don’t expect a recurring character or arc in return. Many subjects appear for just a moment or two, but there are some who leave a lasting impression: in one touching moment, a worker named Fu Yun, who considers herself clumsy, is consoled by colleagues in her dorm. A more concerning sequence follows a young man, Xu Wanxiang, as he struggles to find the notebook where he logged his workload. Wang’s seriousness of approach is mirrored in his film’s wise rejection of aesthetics: there is a mesmerizing quality to the skilled work being done but, in spite of his considerable runtime, the director isn’t looking to lull you into something as cozy as ambient abstraction. Good for him.
In the end, just as with Spring, we get a lightly sweeping epilogue following two workers as they return home for New Years celebrations. Though filled with warmth and family, their houses seem to be located in vast empty landscapes––a dazzling reminder, if it was needed, of the country’s sheer scale, one made all the more effective for coming after three hours of noise, discord, and tightly confined spaces. With all that, Youth (Hard Times) leaves you with the feeling of something monumental: a granular view of the frayed hems of late capitalism that still has 152 minutes to go and, if reports are to be believed, a couple of weddings to get through. Amongst it all, there are images that linger: those capacious flasks of tea and low-hanging clouds of cigarette smoke; the way the fans are pointed down towards each dorm room bed, in lieu of a much-needed A/C unit. On the rare occasion that we join a worker on break, usually hunkering down to eat an instant noodle from a late-night kiosk, it almost feels vaguely romantic. But then it’s back to the grind. Stitch, stitch, stitch. Bind, bind, bind. Trim, trim, trim.
Youth (Hard Times) premiered at this year’s Locarno International Film Festival.
The post Locarno Review: Wang Bing’s Youth (Hard Times) Expands a Granular Yet Monumental Project first appeared on The Film Stage.
