731 (Zhao Linshan, 2025)

When Dead to Rights was released last year, there was outcry in some quarters that a horrific historical event was being misused for propaganda purposes to fuel hate against the Japanese. These claims were not unfounded, but if the film’s propaganda aims were subtle enough to fly over the heads of those with little knowledge of China and its history, the same cannot be said of 731 which is guilty of every charge levelled at Dead to Rights while simultaneously being a flippant examination of very real and heinous war crimes committed by Japan predominantly against the Chinese, but also Russians and prisoners from other parts of its empire.

Those familiar with the subject matter may recall that there were no known survivors from Unit 731, a scientific unit conducting inhumane human experimentation such as vivisection, as the Japanese murdered all of the remaining prisoners and destroyed the facilities at the end of the war. The film may be based on reports of an escape attempt in the summer of 1945, but descends into nihilism as the hero is ultimately unable to live up to the reputation of the man from whom he’s stolen his identity. Wang Yongzhang (Jiang Wu) calls himself Wang Zicheng, supposedly responsible for leading another prison revolt and escape in the 1930s and thereafter becoming active in the resistance. Wang is, however, a pragmatic coward and quickly finds himself given the task of delivering food to the other prisoners, apparently because of his talent for languages which includes Russian and Korean as well Japanese and Mandarin, though he is not supposed to talk to any of them aside from repeating slogans. In any case, he’s content to go along with the Japanese guards in order to preserve his life up to the point that he discovers what’s really going on at Unit 731 and realises that his predecessor was the man he first met on his arrival and has now been murdered.

The atmosphere, however, is decidedly odd with its moments of misplaced humour and takes on an almost squid game-esque aesthetic as announcements are made by a little girl stating that the prisoners have been brought here because they are “sick” and will be “free” when they are”cured”. Obviously, the Japanese officers have different definitions of “cured” and “free” than would usually be assumed, just as they refer to the prisoners as “logs” in their records which obviously means that they are fully aware what they are doing is wrong and they’ll have to face the consequences when all this comes to light. Prisoners are bizarrely made to follow an oiran procession to be “freed”, while many of the staff members dress in formal kimonos rather than military uniforms. The building itself is labyrinthine in design and aesthetically well designed, while the insistence on cleanliness, so they can be sure their biological weapons work as opposed to prisoners just dying of concentration camp diseases, ensures everything sparkles with science fiction sheen. 

On the other hand, the partial suggestion is that these people are “sick” because they’re culturally Chinese, and need to get better by becoming good Japanese citizens who accept the Emperor’s benevolence which is why they make the children read announcements. But at the same time, no one’s getting out of here anyway, and there’s no real explanation for the children’s strange role in the apothecary. Ahistorically, there’s a female Japanese officer who seems to have a hangup about maternity and sleeps next to a pregnant prisoner. She also speaks incredibly bad Japanese to the extent that another character questions where she’s from, but no further point is made aside from her generalised sadism. That the film is so gory in some places almost ends up giving these very real, heinous crimes a camp quality while focusing not on the people being flayed alive or frozen and having their limbs smashed, but the weird room of foetuses in jars. Ishii, meanwhile, the head of the project, seems very interested in the baby of a Chinese doctor who otherwise embarrassed them by being able to figure out how to cure the plague they were developing as a biological weapon with traditional medicine ingredients.

The whole thing makes very little sense, but is really only leading up to sentences like “how could there be Japanese in heaven?” while the film ends with footage of people attending an exhibition on Japanese war crimes along with a pointed reminder that most of the key personnel involved with Unit 731 were never prosecuted because the Americans granted them immunity in exchange for their research. It seems to be suggesting there is again an existential threat, and that there will be “no survivors” this time either if China does not assert itself. Nevertheless, in doing so, it sells a rather surprising message for a propaganda film in making its hero a failure, a man who in the end could not lead his fellow countrymen to freedom but only to death in direct contrast to the resolution usually found in films like this which is included only in the final title card stating that the Chinese people finally put paid to 14 years of Japanese aggression and scored a win for the global anti-fascist movement, which at least seems a little ironic in the light of contemporary authoritarianism. Completely baffling on several levels, the film seems to undercut itself at every opportunity and lands somewhere in the realms of nihilistic fairytale and bizarre fever dream.


731 is available on Digital in the US courtesy of Well Go USA.

Trailer (English subtitles)

Yolo (热辣滚烫, Jia Ling, 2024)

In the training footage which plays over the closing credits of Jia Ling’s YOLO (热辣滚烫, Rè là gǔntàng), someone asks her why she’s learning to draw and she replies that she’s trying to become a better version of herself. The same is very much true of the movie’s heroine who trying to rediscover her will to keep fighting in a world that seems to have beaten her down and destroyed her spirit. Inspired by Masaharu Take’s 2014 boxing drama 100 Yen Love, Jia’s film is kinder and less cynical in tone while also taking on a meta quality in documenting the actress’ own transformation.

Then again, the film opens with a sequence laying bare the petty prejudices that surround Leying (Jia Ling) as a woman in her 30s unemployed and still living with her parents. It’s never revealed what exactly caused her to leave the job she got after college though she explains that she was unable to get another because she finds it difficult to talk to people. What seems apparent is that she is likely living with a heavy depression that is all too often dismissed as mere laziness by those around her and most particularly her mean and judgmental older sister (Zhang Xiaofei). The crunch time comes when her cousin Doudou (Yang Zi) who works for a TV company producing a reality programme about finding jobs for people who for various reasons struggle to get one, tries to bamboozle her into appearing on the show by turning up with a camera for an impromptu family intervention before even asking her if she wanted to take part.

In the attitudes of her family and most particularly the TV show which is ironically called “Find Yourself”, there is a degree of fat shaming in which Leying is treated in certain ways just because of her weight which is assumed be the outward manifestation of her problems. Doudou’s previous guest on the show had been a man who was obese and had mobility issues so they got him a job posing as Buddha for photos. It’s tempting to read Leying’s transformation as complicity with culturally defined notions of feminine beauty and ideal body shape, but the point really is that Leying is unhappy and as a people pleaser with low self-esteem unable to care for herself until she discovers boxing and literally learns to fight back. It is therefore also a little bit awkward that her first steps towards self-care are taken in order to look after a man, insecure boxer Hao Kun (Lei Jiayin), as she tries to help him achieve his dream while allowing him to mooch off her even though he treats her poorly.

Nevertheless, it’s seeing him give up without at fight that eventually spurs her on to start fighting back by taking up boxing herself and surprising those around her with her seriousness and determination. Asked why she’s doing it, she says that she just wants to win for once and eventually comes around to the idea of winning in her own way which doesn’t necessarily mean being named as the champion or beating someone else but holding her own and staying in the fight. What she regains is self-confidence and self-respect, no longer a willing doormat accepting whatever humiliation comes her way to avoid upsetting someone else but standing up for herself and gaining the courage to say no to things she doesn’t want to do. 

There is something quite moving in witnessing the actual transformation of actress Jia Ling throughout the credits sequence and most particularly when she comes to film the scene in which she walks parallel with her old self and has to turn back because it’s too much for her on a personal level. Jia shows us just how unhappy and hopeless Leying had become because of the way the world treated her, but also how singleminded pursuit of her goal gave her a new sense of purpose and a means of fighting back that showed her she could win in her own way when it came to life as well as in the ring. Swapping the grimness of Take’s original for something more broadly inspirational, Jia nevertheless hints at the prejudices of the contemporary society and its money-loving superficiality while simultaneously allowing her heroine to find and occupy her own space born of her own individual happiness rather than the acquisition of things other people think she should want but actually does not.


Original trailer (English subtitles)

Kiangnan 1894 (江南, Wu Xiaogang, 2019)

“Remain true to our original aspirations. In honour of China’s military industry” runs the dedication card at the end of the thrilling animated adventure Kiangnan 1984 (江南, Jiāngnán). Sponsored by Shanghai’s Jiangnan Shipyard (Group) Co Ltd, the modern successor of the Kiangnan Arsenal, the film is both an unabashed love letter to the city of Shanghai and a celebration of Chinese engineering that, albeit subtly, reinforces China’s status as a powerful, technologically advanced nation fully prepared to defend itself militarily if threatened. 

Set in the late 19th century at the close of Qing dynasty, the film opens in fantasy as mechanical engineering enthusiast Lang (Ma Yang) dreams himself a king in a steampunk land daringly flying a celestial aircraft above a platoon of walking houses. Of course, he soon wakes up in a less fantastical world but is fascinated by the iron warships in the harbour and gets himself into trouble sneaking into the Manufacturing Bureau to show his friends a cool steamboat he’s found in a warehouse. Challenged by a young girl, Yulan (Zhang Qi), whose dog he ends up accidentally kidnapping as he escapes, Lang knocks over a candle and burns the whole place down, earning himself massive debts for the warehouse’s repair. To help pay them off, Yulan suggests he join the Manufacturing Bureau as an apprentice but the master, Chen (Zhou Yemang), who turns out to be her father, is a hard taskmaster offending Lang’s pride in refusing to take him on as anything other than a lowly assistant. 

All of that is somewhat secondary to the main plot which begins two years later as a cohort of Japanese spies desperately attempt to prevent a set of blueprints for a gatling gun reaching the Manufacturing Bureau. The historical Kiangnan Arsenal was founded as part of the Self Strengthening Movement which aimed to bolster the nation’s defensive capabilities, producing both firearms and warships at the beginning of the first Sino-Japanese war. This Kiangnan is however slightly more fantastical in its steampunk futurism which sees the workers wearing biomechanical aids extending to metallic gloves on their hands. The “Flying Fish” which captured Lang’s imagination was a high tech steamboat unbeknownst to him piloted by Chen’s late son who fell in battle, bravely making use of his experimental technology to serve his country. “Ordinance is essential for the greatness of our nation” Chen avows when agreeing to attempt to build the gun even without the plans, “faced with a great war we should do our best in duty bound”. 

Yet Chen’s grief-stricken rejection of Lang despite realising his genius, along with his rather sexist sidelining of his talented daughter, perhaps undermines his statement in allowing his personal feelings to holdback progress. Lang, meanwhile, patiently hones his craft while continuing to hope that Chen will one day allow him to become a real mechanic as his true apprentice, eventually building on the legacy of the Flying Fish to craft his own high tech steamboat complete with gatling gun and sailing it into the heart of danger carrying fresh supplies. A dreamer, Lang’s vision of a more technologically advanced future is fulfilled in a coda taking place 60 years later in which Communist China launches its first submarine at the Jiangnan Shipyard, the scene then shifting to an image of the modern Shanghai with its distinctive towers and high-rise cityscape. 

Patriotic concerns aside, the film also provides several opportunities for Lang to show off his equally proficient skills in martial arts, sparring with Yulan, fighting off gangsters, and efficiently dispatching the Japanese spies one of whom actually dies by his hand in quite a calculated manner which though not violent or gory is perhaps out of keeping with the family friendly flavour even as it once again demonstrates his cool-headedness, ingenuity, and heroism, while the persistent militarism has an uncomfortable quality given that the target audience is younger children. Nevertheless, such concerns are likely to fly over their heads thanks to the frequently exciting fight scenes and derring-do as Lang and Yulan take on spies and conspirators while working hard to achieve their dreams, “stubbornly” as the closing suggests refusing to give up on their future. Featuring bold steampunk design and painterly backgrounds showcasing major Shanghai landmarks, Kiangnan 1894 is an action-packed historical drama which aside from a slightly unpalatable militaristic fervour is also an impassioned defence of the right to dream as a path towards technological innovation.


Kiangnan 1894 screens at Vue cinemas across the UK from 23rd October courtesy of The Media Pioneers.

UK release trailer (Mandarin with English subtitles)