In an age where 30 seconds is considered long for an Instagram reel, who has time and patience to watch a 3-hour movie, and one that is in a foreign language? But then, good films should be allowed to move at their own pace. So Long, My Son (2019) is a 3-hour Chinese film directed by Wang Xiaoshuai, billed as one of China’s “sixth generation of filmmakers.” Like others in this generation, and in contrast with earlier Chinese filmmakers who produced mostly historical drama, Wang’s films are mainly concerned with portraying the lives of ordinary folks in a fast- paced transforming China. So Long, My Son belongs squarely to that genre.

The film is a searing family drama set against the backdrop of China’s recent history – its unforgiving one-child policy, the stinging end of the cultural revolution and the unsettling shifts in job security as the country transits from communism to a market economy – all told through the lives of two couples linked by tragedy. I really surprised myself by watching the entire film from start to finish without a break. If you need a tagline for this movie, I’ll just say it’s a gorgeous melancholic masterpiece.

The Story

Early in the film, the camera pans to a reservoir, where two boys watch as older kids cavort at the edge of the water. One longs to join in; the other (Xingxing) is afraid and remains behind. A short time later, Xingxing is goaded into swimming by his friend, Haohao and drowns. The camera lingers at a respectful distance as we see Xingxing’s parents father Yaojun and mother Liyun rush to the waters to haul their son’s lifeless body to the bank.

Haohao’s guilt over the death of Xingxing stays with him, and deeply affects his parents who are close friends of Yaojun and Liyun. Meanwhile, the grieving couple leaves their factory jobs to start a new life in a small town in Fujian where they don’t even speak the dialect. There, they adopt an orphan boy and lovingly raised him as though he is their natural-born son. That proved to be a tough challenge. By sixteen, the boy has become ungovernable and rebellious, no doubt because he knows it is impossible to fill in the shoes of Xingxing. He runs away.

Meanwhile, Haohao’s parents become wealthy though his mother, Haiyan still felt a deep sense of guilt over Haohao’s role in causing Xingxing’s death. As the director of the factory where the aggrieved couple works, Haiyan also feels remorseful for forcing Liyun to abort her second pregnancy in line with China’s one-child policy. Towards the end of the film, after decades of estrangement, Haiyan wants to make amends and see her old friends one more time. So, Yaojun and Liyun get on a plane to return to their hometown for a friends’ reunion. The plane runs into turbulence, the seatbelt announcement sounds, and a greying Yaojun and Liyun clutch each other’s hands. The turbulent stops, the plane steadies and their hands unclasp. “Isn’t it funny,” says Liyun, “that we are still afraid of dying?”

Very few tears are shed during the film; yet one can’t help but feel the weight of sadness at every turn, reinforced time and again by a soft instrumental version of Auld Lang Syne in Chinese and the understated ache of Yaojun and Liyun’s performance.  And the film’s pacing is so measured that you don’t realize that three hours have passed and you’ve just watched one of the most affecting art movies in recent years.

So Long, My Son is available on YouTube with English subtitles.