Review | The Reappearance of Kukan: How a Forgotten Documentary Rekindles Shared U.S.-China Memory After 80 Years
By Richard Ren (Vice Chair of the Chinese American Film & TV Artists Association of Los Angeles, Literary Critic)
A cultural exchange event themed “For the Friendship Between the Peoples of China and the U.S.” was held with great ceremony on June 24 at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures in Los Angeles. Hosted by the Chongqing International Culture Association (CICA), the Western China International Communication Organization, and the Asian American Cultural & Artistic Foundation (AACAF), one of the event’s highlights was the special screening of the newly restored version of the documentary Kukan: The Secret of Unconquerable China. Commemorating the 80th anniversary of the victory of China’s War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression and the global fight against fascism, the screening breathed new life into an Oscar-winning documentary long lost to history—now serving as a cultural bridge reconnecting the people of China and the United States. More than a reappearance of a cinematic gem, Kukan represents a transgenerational conversation across eight decades. It was, in its time, a powerful call that moved countless young Americans to volunteer aid for China.
I. From Basement to the Oscars: The Rise, Fall, and Rediscovery of a Documentary
The fate of Kukan is itself an epic of highs and lows. Subtitled The Secret of Unconquerable China and The Battle Cry of China, the film was a collaboration between Chinese American Li Ling-Ai (also known as Gladys) and American journalist-cinematographer Rey Scott. Between 1937 and 1940, with funding from Li, Scott journeyed over 30,000 miles across war-torn China, documenting the devastation wrought by Japanese militarism on color film.
The film premiered on June 23, 1941, at New York’s World Theater—just months before Pearl Harbor—stirring a strong reaction in the U.S. public. The New York Times wrote that the bombing scenes of Chongqing were “even more horrible than the scenes we have witnessed of London’s destruction.” Despite “operating a hand camera under very difficult conditions,” and occasional shaky or overexposed frames, the film was praised as “an excellent fact film, well narrated and sympathetically conceived.” Its title, Kukan—meaning “heroic persistence” or “bitter struggle”—was hailed as “a more appropriate word could not be found to express the spirit of this film.”
Kukan received a Special Academy Award at the 14th Oscars in 1942, then mysteriously disappeared for over half a century—becoming the only Oscar-winning film in history to go “missing.” In 2009, Chinese American producer Robin Lung discovered the only surviving print in Scott’s family basement. The film’s forgotten legacy was finally brought back to light. Chinese scholar Professor Zhou Yong, who had long studied wartime Chongqing, identified the film’s historical value and helped bring it back to China. After 39 rounds of contract negotiations, the Chongqing Collaborative Innovation Center for WWII Rear-Area Research acquired the rights to distribute Kukan across Greater China in 2015—bringing this lost treasure “home” at last.
II. The Spirit of Chongqing: Decoding a Heroic City Through Film
The film’s most haunting footage is its 17-minute unedited reel of the 1940 Chongqing bombing. On August 19–20, 370 Japanese air raids were carried out on the city. From the rooftop of the U.S. Naval Attaché’s residence, Scott captured the horrific scene: bombs raining down, the Yuzhong Peninsula engulfed in flames. Yet amid this chaos, the camera captured firemen running against the flow, civilians calmly evacuating, and survivors immediately beginning rescue efforts—all embodying what the subtitle called “The Secret of Unconquerable China.”
This “secret” appears throughout the film: guerrilla fighters in Guangdong disguised as farmers, women and children building the Burma Road by hand, and ethnic minorities in the northwest offering their tools for the war effort. As writer Lin Yutang observed in the film’s foreword, this new “Great Wall” wasn’t made of bricks and stones, but of a resilient spirit embedded deep within the Chinese soul—what Professor Zhou calls the spirit of kukan, one of “no wailing, no despair, only steadfast resolve.”
This film remains the most accurate, comprehensive, and visually powerful record of Japan’s bombing of wartime Chongqing ever made by a Western filmmaker. Despite technical imperfections, The New York Times noted, “the vivid suggestion of primitive power fairly leaps from the screen”—capturing the unyielding life force of the Chinese people amidst ruins. These images defied the prevailing Western stereotypes of China at the time.
III. Guardians of Memory: The Transnational Detectives Behind Kukan
The rediscovery of Kukan was the work of a team of international, intergenerational “history detectives.” Robin Lung, a fourth-generation Chinese American who didn’t speak Chinese, traced the mysterious Li Ling-Ai through her search for cultural identity. Professor Zhou Yong, after decades of research on the Chongqing bombings, recognized the film’s archival value. Scott’s descendants rescued the reel from their basement, while restoration experts in both countries revived the footage. Their collaboration mirrors the film’s message itself: just as wartime cooperation once bonded the Chinese and American peoples, preserving shared memory today requires global solidarity.
Of particular note is the story of Li Ling-Ai, a Chinese American woman nearly erased from history. She funded and organized the entire production but, due to the Chinese Exclusion era, was credited only as a “technical advisor.” Her personal story, intertwined with the grand arc of history, reminds us to amplify marginalized voices in historical narratives. As Robin Lung said in her follow-up documentary Finding Kukan, “Discovering Li Ling-Ai made me proud to be Chinese.” Reviving cultural memory often also revives identity.
IV. From History to the Future: Why Kukan Still Matters
Screening this 80-year-old documentary in the digital age carries special significance. On one hand, 4K restoration allows modern audiences to clearly see the burning streets of Chongqing in color—a visceral experience more powerful than text. On the other hand, the film’s themes of resilience and community solidarity are deeply relevant in today’s world, shaken by pandemics and conflict. As one young audience member in Los Angeles remarked, “Those students playing tennis during bombing breaks reminded me of us attending Zoom classes during COVID.”
At a time when U.S.-China relations face strain, the grassroots friendship embodied in Kukan holds renewed value. The film not only influenced American public opinion on China during WWII—it directly inspired support efforts like the Flying Tigers. Today, as scholars analyze details like lantern signals and clothing in each frame, they are also restoring a once-severed collective memory. This kind of truth-based cultural dialogue may offer a human dimension to diplomacy beyond political rhetoric.
As The New York Times wrote in 1941, “If you want to know modern China, you should see it by all means.” Eighty years later, this still rings true—for understanding a nation’s cultural spirit and resilience is key not just to its past, but to its future.
Conclusion
From Oscar stage to basement dust, from academic rediscovery to public remembrance, the journey of Kukan mirrors the broader arc of U.S.-China relations in the 20th century. As images of Chongqing residents rebuilding among ruins flash on the screen, today’s viewers see more than just a story of war—they witness a timeless human resilience. The film’s significance is like the memorial wall at the Chongqing Three Gorges Museum, engraved with the dates of each bombing—not to perpetuate hatred, but to underscore the value of peace.
In an era when memory fragments easily in the digital stream, Kukan stands as an anchoring epic—allowing people from different nations to find shared coordinates in history, and thus, better understand the present and navigate the future.
