Youth Spring (2023) Documentary Movie

 Documentary filmmaker Wang Bing has added another concise yet impactful film to his repertoire with "Youth (Spring)," which lasts over three hours. In comparison, his 2017 work, "15 Hours," stretched for a whopping 15 hours, reminiscent of Andy Warhol's eight-hour film, "Empire," featuring a single continuous shot. These films explore the passage of time through distinct lenses.

While "Empire" captures a tranquil overnight view of New York's Empire State Building, offering minimal action, "15 Hours" takes us into the dynamic environment of a garment factory that never closes. In a similar vein, "Youth (Spring)" revolves around garment manufacturing, focusing on two workshops producing children's clothing in Zhili City, one situated on Happiness Road. The irony in the movie's title becomes evident as it unfolds in this setting.


Wang Bing maintains a relatively neutral tone in his filmmaking, with a steady pace and mostly static shots that avoid becoming excessively lengthy before a cut. The narrative introduces numerous characters, some making their entrance hours into the film. As implied by the title, the workers are predominantly young, with the fastest stitcher, 32-year-old Xiang Xiang, standing out.

Youth Spring (2023) Documentary Movie
The film commences with friendly banter, a stitching competition, and a portrayal of the workday seamlessly blending into a night spent in a nondescript dorm. Occasional glimpses outside reveal dreary skies and litter-filled streets, causing the boundaries between days and nights to blur.


Early in the film, viewers may pick up on a compelling storyline involving Li Shengnan, a worker who is pregnant with her co-worker's child. The question arises: will they decide to keep the baby? However, as the movie progresses, it becomes apparent that answers to such questions may not be handed to the audience. Wang Bing doesn't swiftly shift from one story to another. Instead, he focuses on capturing individual moments and the repetitive conflicts, particularly centered around pay issues, not to entangle viewers in a web of intrigue but to immerse them in the same repetitive loop experienced by the workers. It might not be a pleasant experience, but it's an eye-opening one.


Even during what should be off hours, there is little respite. A perplexing scene unfolds in an unwelcoming Internet café, where a young woman faces a lecture from someone about the detrimental effects of staying up late on the skin. Eventually, she succumbs to sleep at the desk.


Interestingly, the workshop manager who reprimands the workers halfway through the film remains nameless. This absence of identification may be a personal choice, but it also speaks to the idea that even the bosses in this labor hierarchy are just like mere cogs in a machine.


Wang deliberately avoids sticking to a clear storyline, intentionally steering away from a continuous sense of drama. Despite this, each scene manages to grab your emotions or interest in some way, though it might be a bit subtle. As the documentary unfolds, it leads viewers to think, "This is somewhat disheartening to the point of not being very captivating." At this juncture, it's left to the viewer to decide if that was the intended essence of the whole project.


The filming style itself goes against conventional visuals. For instance, a heated argument between Li Shengnan and her father on a balcony is captured with both standing behind a clothesline with a hanging blanket, hiding their figures. This setup creates a feeling of eavesdropping. It's a departure from the approach of renowned American documentarian Frederick Wiseman, who often gets up close to his subjects, constructing his work thematically if not necessarily narratively. "Youth (Spring)" lacks a traditional story arc. Even in its final moments, when a group of workers is shown outside their shops, experiencing a more expansive space, there's no clear conclusion. The film starts and ends by portraying a kind of hellish existence and how the residents endure it.


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