This year’s edition of Tallinn Black Nights included a generous number of films from Asia across all sections of its vast programme. One of the titles that steered controversy due to its sensitive topic was Hou Dasheng‘s drama “Hani“, shot in the mountains near the China-Myanmar border, in Burmese and Mandarin language. The story follows the eponymous teen’s attempt to marry his love-interest – a 12-year-old girl by the name of Pushiha (Pu Juan). The wannabe groom (Gao Xiaokang), named after the people who inhabit the region, is only 14. Those two numbers are the source of many questions surrounding the plot line. Almost five centuries after William Shakespeare’s tragedy “Romeo and Juliet”, this starting point comes with a bag of problems in an era where the attempts to set an end to child marriages in certain parts of the world still occupies human right activists. The impression from both “Hani” screening in Tallinn would probably be slightly different if the audience were better acquainted with its background story, and the tradition of Hani people – a minority group in China with about six million souls.
Controversial in its end result, “Hani” will probably fight to find its place in further international festivals, and even harder to reach the Chinese audiences due to censorship.
AMP sat down with Hou Dasheng to inquire about his motives to write and craft this drama about such a delicate subject, his young non-professional actors and the clash between tradition and modernity.
Could you tell us something about the idea for your movie?
It all started when I was conducting ethnographic fieldwork, which brought me deep into the Ailao Mountains (that trend northwest-southeast, from Chuxiong City in the north, to Luchun County in the south), where I observed the living conditions of the Hani people. This film depicts the lives of nearly six million Hani who appeared on the big screen for the first time.
To me, their fate is crystal clear: growing up without parents; leaving school after just learning to write their names in Mandarin; getting married at the age of 14 to 16 and already becoming parents or working as migrant workers while they’re still young, contributing to the world’s demand for cheaper goods. Then continuing leaving their children in the village to inherit this destiny cycle. On a broader scale, China’s ethnic classification policies largely stem from Stalin-era Soviet practices. Observing how similar policies impact Europe today like the conflict, we can still see shadows of the policies. It makes me worry about the future implications to its neighbouring ethnic groups and China. This concern inspired me to make this film.
What was the biggest challenge making this film?
With a budget of only €13,000, I had to figure out and ensure that every penny was used efficiently to complete the film. The children in “Hani” were all non -professional actors, which made the shooting process unpredictably longer. Moreover, I couldn’t understand their language, so we just relied on expressions and emotions to determine if a scene captured the performance I envisioned.
The main characters Hani and Pushkar are very young but face complex life decisions. How did you work with such mature themes like marriage and dowry seen through the eyes of children?
I believe that there’s no child’s perspective or feminist perspective in this context, especially among left-behind children. As portrayed in the film, they are forced to make decisions at the age of 12 to 16 that most people face at 25-30. I am 35 now, and in real life, the father of the film’s protagonist became a grandfather at my age. The harsh reality behind this is what Pujuan’s father (who played Pushiha) told me: if they don’t marry girls while they’re still mentally immature, these girls will eventually go somewhere else instead of finding a partner and have children in their village. That’s how he became grandfather at 35.
How did you select the actors for such young roles?
All the credits go to my grandmother. During winter, I would take her to warmer places, and she accompanied me to the Hani region during pre-production. Determined to cast local children, I arrived two months earlier to find suitable candidates. We drove across the valley, visiting every primary and secondary school, observing children from a high place as they left school. After screening around 3,000 children, I found the Hani I was looking for. Finding Pushiha was even harder. One evening, while driving my grandmother back home, we passed a terraced field where I saw her waiting for her father because months earlier, he had promised to return on that day. The look of expectation in her eyes convinced me instantly that she was the one. Later, both Hani and Pushiha admitted they initially distrusted outsiders like me but dropped their guard upon seeing me with an elderly woman. Eventually, they grew close to my grandmother, but – unfortunately,she didn’t live to see the film’s premiere.
What were the main challenges in directing inexperienced child actors?
I’m deeply grateful to my young actors. They weren’t acting; they were simply living their lives. For me,this is the highest form of performance. We didn’t need much verbal communication —I only needed to capture their raw emotions. As for so-called “sensitive,” it’s just their reality. Life, as often shown, is harsher than cinema.
The film explores the tension between tradition and modern values, especially in shaping the lives of young people. How do you see this tension playing out in the contemporary Chinese society?
This is a grand question; I’ll try to explain through a specific observation. Twenty years ago, the most educated person in the village was the village chief. Twenty years later, he becomes the least educated. This reflects the replacement of one authority by another. When such ideological upheavals occur within a single generation, the resulting pain is immense. I’ve read similar struggle parallels in the book “Second Hand Time” by Svetlana Alexievich. Among the Hani, traditional animist beliefs coexist with Christianity, shaping daily life and production. (Since the Qing dynasty, European missionaries introduced Christianity to Yunnan. You’ll notice crosses tattooed on every child in the film) Now, it leaves a vacuum of faith since these beliefs are overshadowed by some unknown, unspoken but stronger authority.
Young people, faced with such upheaval, often choose to let it slide. As an outsider, it’s difficult to judge their choices by conventional morality or rules. To quote a poet from the Evenki ethic group: “If the police from a more civilized world want to shoot me, then so be it.”
What kind of impact did the shooting of your debut make on you?
Filming Hani profoundly influenced me. As a Han majority ethnic group, it’s hard to truly empathise with the struggles of minorities. But “Hani” gave me a valuable lens to reflect on myself through the perspective of a minority. It is often through exploring boundaries that we come to understand our own identity. This is my third film on ethnic issues—the other two focus on Tibetans and Hong Kong people. In my view, the identity of Hong Kong population is gradually emerging through pain, and I want to explore this topic further.
What was the major reason for producing the film in Canada?
In China, film requires a “Dragon Seal” approval to enter theatres, and “Hani” bypasses this system by using guerrilla film-making technique.To this day, the film doesn’t officially exist in China for most audiences. Other directors joke that making films in China is like dancing in shackles. But I’m not interested in shackles—I just want to dance freely. Whether I can continue depends on luck. If I’m lucky, I’ll keep making films. If not, I’ll find a job, save money, and make the next film guerrilla-style.
Is there a lesson you learned in the process of making “Hani”?
I have an interesting perspective: if the Hani children watched “The 400 Blows” (1959) by François Truffaut, they would envy the boy in the film. A big-city household, living with parents, and no worries about education—what a life! As Gabriel García Márquez said: “Over there, on the other side of the river, there are magical machines of every kind, while we live like donkeys” (Quote given by the director in Chinese, and translated by his producer Chen Ai. The proper translation was not found on the internet)
