What was director Lou Ye doing during the pandemic? Probably the same as everyone else: experiencing an all-time high cabin fever. Maybe it would seem masochistic to then revisit that era of isolation and doubt in his newest project, An Unfinished Film. Through the peephole, it seems like we’re just watching a group of filmmakers come together to finish a film, only to be then thwarted by the fateful last weeks of 2019 that set the entire world to uncharted territory. But An Unfinished Film, fleshed out as a docufiction, blends crafted footage and semi-fake footage (in the sense that Ye borrows scenes from his filmography, like Spring Fever) to create an even realer reflection of how exactly the pandemic affected the togetherness of filmmaking.
“Tell me, what’s the point?” Actor Jiang (Qin Hao, also in Spring Fever and Mystery) asks Xiaorui (Xiaorui Mao), the director determined to recollect the film crew, fictionalized in name and situation but authentic in their filmmaking role (Mao also being a director), to finish the movie. Jiang is a decade older than he was when he was first involved with the project and is now expecting a child with his wife, so continuity of an emotionally-lost character may feel like a bust. But the question of purpose echoes when the cast and crew find themselves in the alarming initiations of a quarantine. As rumors of an outbreak in Wuhan causes uncertainty on set, Jiang tries to return home. However, hotel employees forcefully push him back into his room, where time of release becomes more uncertain.
The line between fiction and nonfiction is shaky, and perhaps that’s the kind of blurred reality that Ye wants to present. I know I have experienced weeks-long fantasies of uncompleted projects and what-ifs during our quarantine daze, and there is something about An Unfinished Film that feels like looking in the rearview mirror and creating something new at the same time. Unless you are familiar with his filmography (which is not far-fetched, as Ye is an accomplished director with national controversy on his back), Ye doesn’t make archival footage and the present-day obvious in their time periods. The memories and scenes are as seamless as one hazy dream, which is exactly how I’d exact the summary of 2020.
If the pandemic hadn’t been so universal where everyone experienced toilet paper shortages and politicized mask-wearing, you would almost think that there is a somber hilarity within a worldwide lockdown. Maybe at a certain point, years from now, we might see this film as a “Remember this?” or God forbid, “Wait – you guys did that!?” When the crew is quarantined, there is a cameraman who stays with Jiang as he lives out his lonely days in the hotel room. He hears news of the pandemic’s progression and witnesses medical emergencies outside his hospital, which might be more activity than most people were able to see in their own homes. However, An Unfinished Film spends time building the disastrous effects of the pandemic within a person (aside from death). Jiang misses the birth of his child and could only see his family through video-calling, which are heartbreaking conversations with his wife when they avoid calling the unfairness of the situation by name.
It is our personal experience that allows An Unfinished Film to be effective without exaggeration. The pandemic was such an unprecedented time in our lifetimes that people acting erratic and overcautious was quickly accepted as the new norm. But the world made do with the weirdness, quarantine was lifted, and we’re still recovering from the spiral. For Ye and us, An Unfinished Film can feel like a good send-off to the time that we never asked for. But however angry or upset that we were feeling in March 2020, it might feel insignificant to the feeling of being able to see people in person again – or go to the damn movies, thank God.
An Unfinished Film
2024
dir. Lou Ye
106 min.
Screening Friday, 5/2 through Monday, 5/5 @ Brattle Theatre – click here for showtimes and ticket info
