Qiu Jiongjiong

Qiu Jiongjiong, now there’s a name you don’t forget once you’ve stumbled into his cinematic universe. The man’s got a knack for blending the surreal with the achingly real—like, you’re watching one of his films and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re in a fever dream or just reliving your weirdest family dinner. Take A New Old Play (2021). It’s not your typical flick. Qiu dives into the chaotic afterlife of a Sichuan opera clown, letting ghosts and memories swirl together until you start questioning what’s real and what’s just some story we keep telling ourselves. It’s tragic, hilarious, a bit absurd, and somehow all true at once. Backtrack to Da Jiu Lou (2007), and you’ll see Qiu’s fascination with the theater again, but this time it’s the building itself that’s the star. The film wanders through the lives tangled up in this old, crumbling playhouse—think faded curtains, moth-eaten costumes, and people clinging to dreams that might’ve expired long ago. It’s nostalgia, but not the sweet kind; more like a bittersweet aftertaste that lingers. Then there’s Chi (2015), which—surprise—doesn’t play by any standard rules either. Qiu digs into personal and collective history, weaving his family’s stories into a broader look at China’s bumpy journey through the 20th century. It’s messy, intimate, and totally unapologetic, the kind of film that doesn’t care if you’re comfortable. Qiu’s work is like rummaging through an attic packed with memories: sometimes you laugh, sometimes you wince, but you can’t look away.