Above The Dust

A kid obsessed with getting a water gun is the protagonist of Above the Dust, a wildly imaginative but reasonably grounded film by Berlinale favourite Wang Xiaoshuai. The kid (named Wo Tu, the film’s original title in Chinese) is played by the dazzlingly competent Ouyang Wenxin, anchor of this wonderful tale that brings together adult politics, a country’s history, and a child’s dreams.

Wang has concocted a wonderful deception: he has put a child at the centre of a film that is very serious about very adult issues. Which means that the film’s appearance at the Generation Kplus section of the 2024 Berlinale is, uhm, interesting. But appearing in Berlin will cover Above the Dust in the gold dust that other venues find irresistible. The film’s “scandalous” lack of a Dragon Seal (the public screening permit issued by the Chinese authorities) and its maker’s storied festival life only add to its appeal.

In this story, which Wang has adapted from a short story by Li Shijiang, a huge part of the hero’s obsession is fueled by mates who taunt him with their own water guns and he’s unable to join their robust play outdoors. But his frustration is turned inwards, towards his own struggling family. His mother can’t understand his angst. His father, who works in the city and is rarely seen, keeps promising to bring him the water gun but claims to forget whenever he returns home.

Instead, Wo Tu finds an unlikely source of help in his dying grandfather. On his deathbed, the old man promises to help once he becomes a ghost, a weird promise that a child’s logic absorbs wholly. In excitement, the boy informs his peers of what goodies his relation’s impending demise might bring. Well, the old man does die and thus begins Wo Tu’s misadventures in dreamland. These misadventures become intense enough to affect his waking life.

The story splinters in other directions. Wo Tu’s mother (Berlinale best actress winner Yong Mei, subdued, phenomenal) has reveries of her own and comes to believe there’s a lode of value buried in their land, a quirk which connects her ancestral supplications to her child’s sleep-time visitations. There is a latent suggestion that a child’s dreams and an adult’s neurosis aren’t dissimilar in times of privation.

There is also the bigger picture of Chinese urban migration, historical politics and its effect on the country’s population. We get some lessons in this regard from scenes showing Wo Tu with his grandfather, a hothead who rebelled against his own father in ways that come to affect subsequent generations. Mao’s Great Leap Forward gets a mention.

All this suggests that Sinophiles will have a richer viewing experience. Wang, after all, is handling decades-spanning intricate material, even if his film appears light on the surface.

That intricacy and some of what it says about Chinese politics has been noticed by the Chinese government and perhaps explains why the film hadn’t received the Dragon Seal before Berlin. Wang may again be in the sort of trouble he and a few others faced decades ago.

So, yes, China will have its say on whether its people will see this film legally in their country. The country will probably also announce the director’s punishment sometime soon. In the meantime, Wang and his collaborators should be pleased. They have made a film that deserves to be a strong contender for whatever awards it is eligible for. Ruben Van Der Hammen’s editing is skillful, Lv Dong’s production design is outstanding, Wang’s dialogue writing is fat-free, and all of the major performances are superb.

But will these save Wang from receiving punishment from his government? Maybe not. As one of his characters admonishes another: “Don’t hold anymore fantasies”.