The Hong Kong International Film Festival, a cornerstone of cinematic discourse in Asia, this year played host to a profound exploration of familial history and artistic evolution with the premiere of Agnis Shen’s "Shanghai Daughter." This compelling work, which has garnered significant attention, delves into the complex tapestry of memory, community, and the burgeoning possibilities within contemporary Chinese filmmaking. Director Shen, in an extensive and insightful conversation, illuminated the deeply personal origins of her narrative, the vital role of the communities that nurtured it, and her unwavering conviction in the untapped potential of the cinematic medium.
The genesis of "Shanghai Daughter" is rooted in the quietude of Agnis Shen’s own family history. Her father, a member of a generation profoundly impacted by the "Down to the Mountains and Up to the Countryside" movement of the 1970s, rarely articulated his experiences of being sent from urban centers to rural areas. This reticence left Shen with a profound sense of unspoken narratives and unanswered questions. It was in the aftermath of his passing approximately fifteen years ago that Shen embarked on what she initially perceived as a solitary retreat to Yunnan Province.
However, this personal journey took an unexpected and transformative turn one morning amidst the mountainous landscapes of Yunnan. A powerful compulsion led her south, a quest to unearth traces of her father’s veiled past. Though he had never openly shared his true feelings about this pivotal period of his life, Shen sensed that his silence itself was a profound legacy. It was in Yunnan that she encountered individuals who had known her father, and these encounters became the bedrock of the emotional resonance that would ultimately coalesce into "Shanghai Daughter." These personal connections, forged through shared memories and unspoken understanding, provided the crucial emotional framework for the film.
Initially, Shen envisioned this rich material taking shape as prose, perhaps in the form of a novel or a collection of short stories. The transition to a feature film format materialized much later, a decision catalyzed by the pervasive disruption and heightened sense of time and loss brought about by the global pandemic. The uncertainty of the times spurred her to reconnect with the individuals she had met years prior, a deep-seated concern for their well-being and even their survival fueling her efforts. This led to a renewed commitment to revisit the same landscapes and faces in person. The visceral experience of returning to these familiar yet changed surroundings solidified her conviction that the narrative demanded the visual language and immersive power of cinema.
The act of revisiting—both geographically and thematically—is a recurring motif that permeates Shen’s creative process, extending across both her literary and cinematic endeavors. Her commitment to "Shanghai Daughter" was underscored by repeated visits to the Yunnan community, numbering between eight and nine before production commenced. These extended engagements involved sustained conversations with the residents, allowing for a gradual unfolding of memories, each retelling carrying subtle variations that, in their layered accumulation, helped Shen to meticulously construct the film’s intricate structure. The script, particularly its delicate dialogue, was only fully finalized approximately one month prior to the commencement of principal photography, a testament to the iterative and organic nature of its development.
In a move that reflects the film’s independent spirit, the production of "Shanghai Daughter" deliberately circumvented conventional industry pathways. Shen opted for a pioneering approach to financing, embracing crowdfunding. She published a deeply personal essay on WeChat, which resonated profoundly with her network of friends and acquaintances spanning a diverse array of fields, including the contemporary art world. This appeal garnered support from hundreds of individuals who contributed modest yet significant amounts, ranging from fifty to several hundred dollars, ultimately coalescing into a total production budget of approximately 180,000 US dollars. For Shen, this deliberately modest scale was not a concession but a conscious aesthetic choice, perfectly aligned with the intimate and deeply personal nature of the story she sought to tell. This approach not only democratized the filmmaking process but also fostered a sense of collective ownership and investment among the film’s supporters.
The casting of Liang Cuishan in the central role was a decision deeply intertwined with Shen’s personal vision. Shen describes the protagonist as a composite, embodying elements of both herself and the actress. From the outset, the intention was to maintain an open and collaborative approach to the role, allowing it to be profoundly shaped by Liang’s own interpretative responses. When Liang inquired about preparation, Shen’s guidance was refreshingly unconventional: she simply brought the actress to the filming location approximately ten days before shooting began, facilitating introductions to the local community. Liang’s immersion in this transitional period, existing in a liminal state—no longer a complete outsider but not yet an integral member of the community—mirrored the film’s thematic exploration of gradual deepening and belonging.
Liang Cuishan’s performance in "Shanghai Daughter" masterfully leverages her innate strengths as both a compelling performer and a keen observer. Shen concurs with the assessment that Liang serves as both a witness and a participant within the unfolding narrative. Initially, the actress approached the location and its inhabitants with meticulous observation, diligently learning the intricate web of relationships and the rhythms of daily life. Over time, her engagement transcended mere narrative progression; she became deeply moved by the individuals themselves. Shen vividly recalls Liang being particularly affected by witnessing local residents engage in the practice of tapping rubber trees, a moment that powerfully illustrated the actress’s profound empathy and sensitivity.
In stark contrast to Liang’s professional performance, the majority of the on-screen presences are non-professionals. These are the actual residents of the Yunnan community, individuals Shen had come to know intimately over a four-year period. Among them are those who had known her father, as well as members of local ethnic groups and families from state farms. Their interwoven relationships and shared collective memories imbue the film with an unparalleled authenticity and a palpable sense of lived experience.
Given that Shen had posed similar questions repeatedly during her extensive research visits, many of these residents were, in essence, re-enacting conversations they had already shared with her. Shen meticulously listened to their narratives multiple times, observing that approximately eighty percent remained consistent while new details continued to emerge. These deeply ingrained recollections served as the guiding force in determining which lines would ultimately find their place in the script. During the production itself, the non-actor participants frequently improvised based on their own lived histories, with Liang fluidly responding and adapting in real time, effectively blurring the boundaries between scripted performance and authentic reality.
Contrary to potential expectations surrounding a film of this nature, Shen describes the shooting process as remarkably fluid and manageable. While her producer expressed concerns regarding the extended dialogue sequences and lengthy takes, Shen’s confidence was rooted in the community’s profound familiarity with the material. She felt assured that most scenes could be captured effectively within one to three takes. The paramount consideration for Shen was the emotional truth inherent in the exchanges, prioritizing it above any pursuit of formalistic polish. This trust in the authenticity of the human element allowed for a more organic and less constrained filmmaking experience.
Visually, Shen conceived the cinematography as a direct and unmediated extension of her own perceptual framework. Throughout her repeated journeys, she found herself instinctively pausing at the same vantage points and framing the world from consistent angles. This recurring pattern suggested to her that these specific perspectives held an essential truth. Consequently, when the camera was finally deployed, it largely replicated these established viewpoints, mirroring the perspectives she had already discovered through her own eyes and emotional responses. For Shen, the choices made in framing and camera movement are inextricably linked to her perception of the passage of time within each shot, imbuing the visuals with a temporal dimension.
However, it is arguably sound that emerges as the most potent sensory element within "Shanghai Daughter." Shen communicated to her sound collaborator a deliberate eschewing of heavy reliance on musical scores. Instead, the emphasis was placed squarely on capturing the nuanced textures of daily life, thereby cultivating what she terms a "living atmosphere." Ambient noises, the ebb and flow of voices, and the sonic rhythms inherent to the landscape collectively function as a second skin for the characters, firmly anchoring their journeys within the specificity of their geographical and cultural context. This meticulous sonic preparation during the shoot ensured that the post-production phase for the soundtrack became a process of focused refinement rather than a salvage operation.
Shen also offered a thoughtful reflection on the broader landscape of Chinese cinema today. She notes that industry colleagues frequently express concerns about challenging economic conditions impacting the sector. Yet, she perceives another, more optimistic, dimension. For emerging creators unburdened by ambitions for large-scale productions, this current period can indeed foster an environment conducive to personal narratives and smaller, more intimate projects. While the mainstream market may be experiencing fluctuations, Shen maintains a strong belief in the enduring presence of audiences and new generations of viewers who are receptive to diverse voices and unconventional storytelling.
She is resolute in her conviction that filmmakers should not underestimate the discernment of younger audiences. In her view, cinema remains one of the most avant-garde art forms globally, its boundaries having already been significantly expanded by visionary directors such as Abbas Kiarostami and Apichatpong Weerasethakul. The groundbreaking work of these filmmakers, she argues, serves as irrefutable proof that moving images possess an enduring capacity for evolution and that the medium continues to harbor a vast expanse of unexplored territories and narrative possibilities.
The issuance of a screening permit for "Shanghai Daughter" in mainland China has, understandably, elicited considerable curiosity from festival audiences. Some have speculated whether the film’s deeply personal perspective was strategically chosen as a means to navigate potential censorship. Shen firmly rejects this interpretation. She characterizes her relationship with the regulatory system as a dynamic negotiation, a process wherein both parties engage in a continuous cycle of testing and acceptance. Her primary concern, she emphasizes, lies in proactively avoiding excessive self-censorship at the inception of a project, rather than subsequently tailoring her work to meet the demands of review processes.
Looking toward the future, Shen harbors a clear intention to continue her work on the big screen. Having deliberately set "Shanghai Daughter" thousands of kilometers away from her native city, she now finds herself drawn back to Shanghai for her next cinematic endeavor. She envisions a narrative that might draw inspiration from the conventions of film noir, thereby reconnecting with her birthplace while simultaneously pursuing her ongoing fascination with how diverse locales and cultural influences fundamentally shape storytelling. For a director who clearly thrives on movement and exploration, the act of traversing between places represents another profound method of revisiting the past and discovering novel perspectives through which to perceive the world.
