In 2017 and 2018 I went through a really dark period in my life. Back then my grandfather passed away, then my uncle was diagnosed with cancer while my father underwent major surgery that could have cost him his life. I spent countless days by their bedsides at the hospital. What I saw around me every day was illness, suffering, and death. It was the first time I had to spend so much time around such pain, and it left me lonely and tormented. Gradually, I began to look beyond the hospital, searching for other people in society who were experiencing the same suffering I felt. I wanted to see how they managed to endure this in their lives. This film tells a story that originates from my personal pain but strives to embrace others’ experiences.
PANDA is the story of four small lives, four people invaded by memories, wandering in the city of Nanjing along the Yangtze River during the city’s infamous cold winter. As the days pass, they huddle together in the midst of trauma and love.
On an individual level, each character carries specific psychological wounds – sexual trauma, the grief of losing a spouse, shattered dreams, the loss of identity, the collapse of self-esteem. These are not isolated cases, but rather epitomes of a modern spiritual dilemma: How do we coexist in society while bearing unspeakable pain?
On a collective level, these characters’ encounters represent the gathering of marginalized people within a society. Overlooked by the mainstream, they nevertheless find glimmers of light in one another. Their ‘non-resistance’ is not cowardice, but a form of gentle persistence in their state of powerlessness. It is a shared solidarity among the vulnerable, a silent protest.
In today’s era of globalization and widespread turmoil, human suffering has become increasingly universal. Economic disparities, the fallout of war, mental health and identity crises – these issues have transcended borders and transformed into collective traumas of our time. In this film, the Yangtze River that crosses the city is not merely a body of water, but also a metaphor, a living entity that carries individual memories and tears, flowing into the shared sea of human suffering.
In an era of superficial, sleek modernity, irreconcilable and unspoken torments are often buried. But cinema is an art form that can unearth such pain through silence, slowness, and contemplation. Through this film, I hope to make the invisible seen, to treat with care and concern the marginalized lives overlooked by society. I wish to spark a faint glimmer of hope – not through grand redemptions, but through quiet, subtle connections between people. I want to create the possibility of empathy, to offer audiences a hand to hold in the darkness, if only for a moment.
This film is not an answer, but a question: When swept up in the frigid winter of life, how can we still retain the capacity to love? That question is why I had to make this film. It stems from my own pain and experience, but I hope it ultimately resonates with everyone who has been broken yet still strived to move forward.
Being deeply influenced by classical Chinese novels and magical realist storytelling, I attempt to situate contemporary stories within a classical structure, juxtaposing the ghosts of history with the absurdity of modern life to evoke the continuity and universality of our inner struggles. This approach is an exploration of ‘Chineseness’ – not as surface-level symbolism, but as an intrinsic narrative spirit and worldview. The film’s visual style is dim and gritty, punctuated by a dark tone – not merely as an aesthetic choice, but also as a moral stance and creative statement.
Xinyang Zhang
