Living The Land: An Ancient, Impoverished, Calamitous Yet Resilient Homeland

In February, during the Berlin International Film Festival, I watched the film Living The Land, directed by Mr. Huo Meng and produced by Ms. Yao Chen. It was only upon watching the film that I realized it depicted the customs and way of life in my hometown, Henan. The familiar local dialect, the deep familial bonds mixed with sorrow and joy, the traditions and interpersonal relationships—all of these awakened my memories of the laughter and tears, births and deaths of my fellow countrymen.

The film’s color tone is muted, much like the lives of the people in Henan, which have long been shrouded in hardship. The story is set in 1991, a time when Henan residents were still struggling for basic sustenance. After harvesting their crops, they first had to line up to submit their grain tax (a form of in-kind taxation) to the government. To attend school, families had to offer good-quality grain as payment. Only after these obligations were met could they keep a limited portion for their own consumption and discretionary use. People labored diligently, planting and harvesting, drying their grain in the open, all the while fearing that an unexpected storm might destroy their hard-earned yield. This way of life had persisted on this land for over a thousand years, nurturing countless generations and sustaining millions of lives.

The village loudspeaker broadcasted international news from China National Radio, reporting on events such as “Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait” and “the collapse of Ethiopia’s Mengistu regime.” But the concerns of the villagers remained close to home—weddings, funerals, whether there was enough rice for the next meal, and how to afford school fees for their children.

“Red events” (weddings, childbirth) and “white events” (funerals) were of utmost importance to the people here. These occasions demanded the most effort and attention, with elaborate rituals deeply rooted in Henan and the broader Central Plains region. Such events mark the fundamental cycle of life and death, representing the continuity of generations, the transmission of memories, the preservation of families and communities, and the inheritance of culture and tradition. This is why Living The Land devotes significant attention to both funerals and celebrations, perfectly aligning with its title and overarching theme.

The characters in the film are vivid—ordinary yet full of individuality.

The protagonist, the young boy Xu Chuang, has not yet been dulled by the burdens of reality. He is innocent and full of vitality, cherished by his entire family—a reflection of the traditional preference for the youngest child and the deep familial affection found in Henan’s rural culture.

The Aunt, the only major character dressed in bright colors, harbors youthful dreams of love. Yet in the end, like many before her, she has no choice but to “marry whomever fate dictates,” settling for a husband she does not love and enduring an unhappy marriage. She represents countless people from my hometown—those who transition from youthful dreams to reluctant acceptance of reality.

The Grandmother,Li Wangshi (Madam Li, née Wang), has endured decades of hardship, yet she continues to live with resilience and calm. She has raised an entire family, without even a formal name, yet her virtue surpasses that of many well-educated scholars. Her long life flows quietly like a stream, transforming struggles into silent perseverance.

The Aunt-in-law scrapes together money from her meager income to pay for her younger relatives’ school fees. Many children in my hometown have experienced such moments—when the sacrifices of the older generation cleared obstacles for the younger ones, allowing them to move forward and see the light beyond the storm.

The character Jihua represents those in every rural village who suffer from intellectual disabilities. He is mocked, bullied, and exploited, yet he remains kind at heart—pure and guileless, embodying a natural innocence.

The characters and stories in this film are a reflection of Henan—a land with a glorious history, yet one that has faced repeated decline. Despite its hardships, it continues to nurture generations, embodying the joys and sorrows of its people.

Some critics claim that Living The Land “portrays China’s ugliness to please the West,” but this is far from the truth. The film’s characters and stories do not depict only darkness; rather, they present a multifaceted reality. The narrative remains faithful to the truth, vividly illustrating the lives and fates of the people of Henan, their history and present struggles, all while expressing a deep, heartfelt love for this homeland. Many Henan viewers resonated strongly with the film, and it received widespread acclaim from ordinary audiences and international guests alike. It is not about “selling misery” or “catering to the West.”

For years, Henan’s history, memories, and emotions have been suppressed and overlooked. Internationally, this land—one of the cradles of Chinese civilization—has provided cheap labor for China’s economic rise and contributed an incalculable amount of sweat and toil to the production of low-cost goods for the world. Yet, it has never received the attention and understanding proportionate to its historical glory, contributions, and sheer size. Its suffering and struggles have not been excessively exposed, but rather, barely acknowledged.

Many films have depicted the social, cultural, and historical realities of various regions in China: Red Sorghum for Shandong, White Deer Plain for Shaanxi, and Mountains May Depart for Shanxi. Yet, for a long time, Henan lacked a similarly representative and emotionally powerful cinematic work.

The screening of Living The Land and its director’s award have, at the very least, given people around the world a glimpse into this land and its people. It has imprinted some awareness and memory of Henan, ensuring that its existence is recognized, even in distant foreign lands.

I also had a brief conversation with director Huo Meng, a fellow Henan native, before a meet-and-greet event. I thanked him for making this film, for bringing the stories of Henan’s people to the world. Later, during a Q&A session, I asked Ms. Yao Chen, a native of southern China, about her perspective on the cultural differences between Henan’s northern traditions and her own southern upbringing.

It is worth mentioning that aside from Zhang Chuwen, the actress playing Aunt, all the other actors in the film were local Henan villagers—ordinary people born and raised in this land. They made up the majority of the film’s cast, portraying the touching stories of rural life and creating a dynamic cinematic rendition of Along the River During the Qingming Festival. The extensive list of cast members in the closing credits was a tribute to these Henan locals who played themselves on screen.

At the Berlin screening, I also spoke with the father of Wang Shang, the child actor chosen from among ordinary schoolchildren to play the protagonist. We discussed the intense academic pressure on Henan students and the overwhelming competition they face. Wang’s father deeply related to my concerns. We also talked about how many Henan residents seek to “run” (escape) to avoid the brutal competition and the decline of their hometown.

For young Wang Shang, landing a lead role may have changed his life for the better. But for millions of his peers, they must still endure the countless hardships of growing up in Henan—poverty, educational pressure, exhausting labor with meager pay, unhappy marriages, the burden of elderly care, unfinished real estate projects, banking crises, the pain of losing loved ones, and chronic illnesses. These struggles shape generation after generation, turning once bright and lively youths into shrewd, pragmatic middle-aged adults, and eventually into wrinkled, weary elders, struggling and toiling through their entire lives.

The people of this homeland have endured the brutality of the War of Resistance against Japan, the famines of impoverished eras, and now the upheavals of modernization. Many have migrated for work, while traditional clan societies and ancient cultural heritage fade away. 

Yet, no matter how things change, this land remains the home of Henan’s people—the root of countless Chinese and overseas Chinese alike. For thousands of years, it has carried the weight of life, civilization, suffering, and labor. It is ordinary yet profound, mundane yet solemn, witnessing the birth, existence, and eternal rest of one generation after another—this enduring Land of Life and Breath.