February 26, 2015
Whisper of Minqin –China ,
2013
Whisper of Minqin –
Wen-Ming Wang’s moving documentary Whisper of Minqin is not an unbiased film. How could it be? This is
a film likely made in secret, as far away from the prying eyes of local
officials as could be, and throughout the film, viewers are given clues as to
why this may have been the case. There’s talk of thugs seeking to “persuade”
local people not to submit formal complaints to officials in Beijing, and at
one point, we’re told that someone with a great deal of power has turned off
the water supply, leaving residents with fresh water only once every five days.
If this is indeed the truth, it is unlikely that local government officials
would be willing to speak on camera; in fact, it is much more likely that they
would actively try to prevent the film from being made in the first place.
Still, films such as these often feel incomplete without dissenting voices, for
without the other side’s point of view, it is all too easy for a film like this
one to be dismissed as having too obvious an agenda.
To make the film, Wang followed a family living in Minqin County
(in China ’s Gansu Province )
on and off for over two years. Wang himself is originally from the region, and
because of that, he has personally witnessed the effects of desertification
there. (He even sent his own son away after a particularly terrible sandstorm
in 1993.) During one of his trips to the area, he met a ten-year-old student named Fang Fei
He, whose dreams mirrored his own at that age. Facing the camera, Fang Fei explains
two of her dreams: to become a government official and to see the world. By the
end of the film, she has given up one of these.
As this transformation takes place, viewers are presented with
some sobering facts about the region. Here are just a few: The area has been
hit by over 1,300 sandstorms, 350,000 residents have moved away, and most of
the population between the ages of 20 and 35 has abandoned the region. On more
than one occasion, we hear of family members who have not returned for years –
not even for Chinese New Year. It is as if we are witnessing life in this
region for the last time, for after the elderly have passed on and the young
have departed, it’s hard to see anyone remaining here willingly.
Through archival footage and Wang’s own narration, we see
what the area once was, a land replete with lush fields and an abundance of
vegetation, and it is easy to see why people would have once been proud to call
it home. This is in stark contrast with the barren wasteland seen in more
recent footage. In fact, the situation appears to be so bad that only 5% of
Minqin remains usable. Wang lays the blame for this not on climate change but
on failed government initiatives over the past 65 years. This timeframe
coincides with the Great Leap Forward, a time of disastrous agricultural
policies that historians estimate resulted in the death of tens of millions of
people. The insinuation is that past mistakes are creating present-day
suffering. Again, no government official appears on camera to refute these
claims.
As I watched the film, I wanted more and was frustrated by
the film’s inability to provide it. I wanted to hear officials respond to
charges of culpability, even if all they did was toe party lines and answer in
broad generalizations. I also wanted Wang to be more of a reporter and ask
follow-up questions. For example, in one scene he is told that one of the
elderly men in the area is being bullied by his son. It was a revealing
comment, yet Wang does not press him on it. Perhaps it is not considered culturally
appropriate to do so; however, not doing so just seems journalistically
negligent. Unfortunately, this is a frequent pattern. At key moments, what
should be powerful and add to the tragedy of the situation comes across as
half-hearted and incomplete. There are reasons for this, I know, but the film
suffers as a result.
What does come across effectively is the resilience of many
of the residents and their admirable determination to preserve their land for
successive generations. They seem aware that the odds are stacked against them,
yet there they remain – on land without water, in constant peril from both the
elements and powerful entities that seek to force their relocation. “We will
stay,” they repeatedly say. “Only death can drive us off our land.” The odds
are against them, and they know it. They are a small group – just nine families
consisting of 49 individuals; their adversaries, on the other hand, have time, money, and power on their side. In one particularly telling scene, one of the families
returns to find their home in ruins. We watch as they pay their respects to
their ancestors for the last time, pack up their things, and drive off into the
dusty sunset, perhaps never to return. It may only be a matter of time before
the rest join them.
In the end, Whisper of
Minqin is moving and heartfelt, and viewers will feel for the families the
film follows. After all, audiences love a David-and-Goliath story, and the film
gives them a pretty good one. Director Wang doesn’t get everything right, but most of
the film’s problems are understandable given the circumstances. I found myself
rooting for Fang Fei and her family, as well as recognizing the signs of an
ever-growing disillusionment. At critical moments, Wang focuses the camera on
the faces of his film’s subjects, and their eyes all seem to be saying the same
thing: “This just isn’t right.” (on DVD in Region 3)
3 and a half stars
*Whisper of Minqin is in Chinese with English subtitles.
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