Art acts as a mirror reflecting back society to itself for introspection. Too often, we make the mistake of viewing censored societies as devoid of artistic merit or introspection about their own situation.
Art has a long history of subversiveness. From prudish mores in European painting to Oscar Wilde in literature, art pushes boundaries and subverts power from governments to social norms. Chinese literature reveals a similar pattern. Some of the most well-known works of art rely on symbolism to discuss political intrigue, avoiding more direct discussions to avoid censorship. By using fictional characters with different names in different situations, Chinese artists can express their frustration or hopes, which allows them to avoid the broad reach of the censors.
The past decade has seen a crackdown on artistic expression and general expression of any kind. China exported “Wolf Warrior” films that show the conflict between Chinese commandos and unnamed great-power soldiers intended to represent the United States. This mirrored the exhortation of Chinese leader Xi Jinping to tell the Chinese story to the world.
A Chinese-made movie in Chinese and U.S. theaters tells a funny story while also critiquing surveillance authoritarianism in such a way as to avoid censorship.
“Successor” tells the story of a very wealthy man who seeks to avoid the pitfalls of raising a son with plenty but instills in him values such as hard work, appreciation of money, and responsibility. To accomplish this, he moves into a hutong (alley) with his wife to raise their boy, pretending to be poor. Reminiscent of the American movie “The Truman Show,” the father surrounds his son with a nearly entirely fake existence and cast of characters attempting to raise the type of son he wants. The boy’s grandmother, who lives with the family, is, in reality, his teacher. He bumps into foreigners hired by his father who ask him questions directly from his English textbook to help him gain confidence, and his father’s guards constantly follow him.
On the surface, this movie plays to the well-known Chinese and Western themes of strict, overbearing Chinese parents pushing academic success, self-discipline, and acceptance into elite universities. However, “Successor” goes beyond this simple, albeit rich, vein of themes and stories into a film that subtly critiques the state of authoritarianism and yearning for freedom in China.
As the boy matures, he notices the increasing irregularities of life that seem so inconsistent with the perfectly managed life his father attempts to create. His desire to pursue his love of running at a state-sponsored sports school is cut short by his father’s desire for him to get good grades and attend the fictional Tsingbei University business school, a mash-up of the elite Tsinghua and Peking universities. His desire to pursue his own path and the freedom of doing what he loves conflicts with the stage-managed path his father sets, wanting to mold a successor to his wealth. This is not merely telling the story of a maturing young man but a man who wants freedom from strict control.
The story reaches its climax (warning: spoilers) when the boy takes the gaokao, the notorious Chinese college entrance exam. With his family and all his minders waiting outside the test center, the boy purposefully fails the test and escapes before the test, seeking to uncover the truth of his life. With everyone waiting for him to exit the gaokao, he returns home to discover the life he thought he knew was an immaculately managed operation.
The boy discovers the surveillance cameras watching his every move and that the beloved grandmother he buried was really a hired teacher working for his father. As his mother and father find him discovering the ruse, his world crumbles, lacking any identity or understanding of what is true. He leaves his home, his father, and his mother, walking into the light of childhood joy, playing in the water of a stream.
So what makes “Successor” subversive in China?
Just as Xi has popularly been referred to as father or baba in Chinese, the boy chafes at the surveillance and control his father exerts upon his life, growing disenchanted with the need to suffer. When he discovers the managed stage his father created for his life, he rejects the father’s control and the peak of Chinese success, gaining admission to Tsinghua and Peking universities and wanting freedom to live his own life. He rejects control, surveillance, and immense wealth and becomes the successor to pursue the uncertainty of freedom.
As the credits roll and the boy is now running, having gained acceptance to a sporting school, a song titled “I Want to be the Wind” plays, singing pointed lyrics of “I’ve heard enough of these words” and “There are so many things I never dare to say to you face to face” that bring home the theme of the movie. A story about the facade created by an overbearing father morphs into a subtle critique of escaping constant surveillance and control to lift up those wanting freedom to pursue their own path and the joy they receive.
The conflicts between fathers and children are universal, from Biblical stories to Shakespeare. Set in modern China, with themes of surveillance and control and children breaking free from a dictatorial father, the symbolism should not be lost. Chinese filmmakers will not directly address censorship and control but level their critiques in less obvious ways. Just as the boy deserves so much better, so do the Chinese people and their artists.
