Film Review | The Survival Aesthetics of Those Who Defend the Land: The Absurd Realism of Gezhi Town

By : Richard Ren / Critic
December 17, 2025

At the invitation of CMC Pictures, the North American distributor of Gezhi Town, I attended the film’s North American premiere on the evening of December 17 at an AMC theater in Monterey Park, Los Angeles. Even before the screening began, the scene itself formed a culturally resonant tableau: multiple overseas fan groups of Xiao Zhan arrived voluntarily to show their support. The Los Angeles–based “Xiaofeixia” fan group and the “Bai Xiang Guo” fan group appeared in coordinated fashion, holding both Chinese- and English-language support banners. Some fans even drove several hours from San Diego specifically for the premiere.

As a critic who has long observed Hollywood premiere culture, this kind of cross-community, cross-cultural mobilization around a Chinese-language film is rare. In itself, it already signaled the emotional weight this film carries among overseas Chinese audiences.

On the night of the premiere, the organizers deliberately arranged a relatively concentrated seating area inside the theater for fan groups, allowing the atmosphere of support to be visually cohesive. During on-site filming and documentation, fans were consciously included within the frame. Interview and photo areas were also reserved along the red carpet and entry zones, ensuring that fans were not merely “sitting in the audience,” but truly became part of the premiere experience.

This sense of being respected and seen is, in fact, uncommon in overseas screening environments.

The two fan groups blended naturally on site—no noise, no disruption to the screening—offering instead a quiet yet resolute form of collective support. Some audience members drove all the way from San Diego solely for this North American premiere. In that moment, the feeling that “you are not alone watching Chinese-language cinema overseas” became tangible and real.

Gezhi Town is set against the historical backdrop of the Shipai Defense during the Western Hubei Campaign (1940–1943), yet it deliberately avoids the grand spectacle and heroic mythmaking typical of Hollywood war films. Director Kong Sheng and screenwriter Lan Xiaolong choose instead to narrow the lens, focusing on a remote mountain town called Gezhi, and reframing a war of national survival as a life-or-death decision by ordinary people determined to defend their home.

For Western audiences accustomed to paradigms such as Saving Private Ryan or Dunkirk, this narrative strategy may feel restrained—but it is precisely this restraint that gives the film its penetrating force.

What leaves the deepest impression is the film’s visual articulation of “folk wisdom.” Elements such as diving helmets, bamboo weaving tools, and Tujia fire pits are not presented as decorative markers of exoticism; rather, they are organically integrated into the narrative structure. Kitchen knives become weapons of self-defense; bamboo crafts transform into tools for concealment and fortification; even domestic architecture is reconfigured into wartime defenses.

This creative transformation rooted in everyday life gives rise to a distinctly Eastern “aesthetics of survival,” allowing war to be felt not as an abstract political concept, but as visceral, lived pain.

The film’s thematic slogans—“Resolved to defend the land, shedding blood to repel the invaders” and “Clothed as commoners, fighting a battle to protect home”—succinctly capture its narrative core. By pushing grand dichotomies such as invasion versus resistance and war versus anti-war into the background, Gezhi Town invites viewers to grasp the weight of history through the actions of small, ordinary figures. This approach aligns with recent Hollywood war films that emphasize individual perspectives, while retaining an unmistakable and irreplaceable Chinese historical context.

The performances are equally striking. Xiao Zhan almost completely sheds the idol image familiar to the public, shaping the role of Mo Dexian, a craftsman in chaotic times, through an almost “de-performative” approach. Rather than amplifying emotion through dialogue or overt expression, he compresses emotion into the body and nervous system, allowing fear, hesitation, and awakening to seep naturally into the smallest details.

Particularly commendable is his precise control of physiological responses. When confronted with sudden violence and death, Xiao Zhan’s performance reflects a restrained yet authentic stress reaction—momentary loss of speech, drifting eyes, an involuntary swallow, subtle trembling of the hands. These are not theatrically designed gestures, but instinctive human responses under extreme pressure. This bodily awareness prevents the character from slipping into the “heroic distortion” so common in war films.

As the story unfolds, Xiao Zhan completes the character’s psychological progression through exceedingly subtle shifts—from instinctive survival, to the realization that there is no retreat, and finally to active resistance through his professional skills as a craftsman. This growth is not marked by overt emotional crescendos, but quietly achieved through steadier gazes, more decisive movements, and changes in breathing rhythm. The transition from terror to resolve follows an ordinary psychological logic, lending the character a high degree of credibility.

In this sense, Gezhi Town marks a significant genre crossing for Xiao Zhan. He no longer relies on star aura or established typecasting, but fully embeds himself within the realist framework constructed by Kong Sheng and Lan Xiaolong. His performance aligns seamlessly with the film’s overall tone of “absurd realism”—unemphatic, unexaggerated, yet resonant through the magnifying power of the big screen.

From a career perspective, this film also signals a new stage in Xiao Zhan’s work in cinema. Gezhi Town is not a “safe zone” tailored for an actor, but a demanding ensemble war film. His ability to firmly anchor his role within such a text demonstrates his readiness for serious cinematic creation. This work may well become a landmark in his theatrical filmography.

Peng Yuchang, portraying the deserter Xiao Yan, completes a transformation from cowardice to awakening through near–silent-film-style physical expression—dramatic yet grounded. The supporting cast is equally solid: Yang Xinming’s patriarch is steady and compassionate, while Yin Zheng’s Japanese soldier is cold and menacing, adding layers of tension and complexity to the film.

Stylistically, the film’s most distinctive breakthrough lies in its black humor rooted in “absurd realism.” Lan Xiaolong’s humor does not soften the cruelty of war; rather, it forces the audience to bear heavier reflection through laughter. As one might feel: “It’s clearly a war film, yet you find yourself laughing—but every laugh lands like a heavy blow.” In an era of increasingly homogenized war cinema, this experience is rare.

The title Gezhi Town itself is rich with meaning. “Gezhi” is both the protagonist’s name and an echo of people’s longing for fleeting peace amid wartime chaos; “Meticulous Craft” (implied by the title’s phrasing) symbolizes the craftsman’s spirit—respect for detail and reverence for life. By the film’s conclusion, these words transcend a mark of quality to become a declaration of dignity for those who resist.

In its ending—where Gezhi Town pays a heavy price yet briefly preserves peace—the film delivers a quiet but powerful message: even in the darkest of times, ordinary people can still choose courage. This theme transcends national borders and historical periods, carrying clear cross-cultural resonance.

According to CMC Pictures, Gezhi Town will open in multiple North American cities beginning December 25, including Los Angeles, New York, and San Francisco. For audiences seeking a war film that departs from Hollywood’s dominant narrative paradigms, this is a work worth entering the theater for—and watching with patience and reflection.

IMDb: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt33014233/review/rw11035698/?ref_=tturv_1