Memory and Cinema have always shared strong ties. We think of our memories as a film; and by that we mean we can be detached from them. Like a film, we are able to see the past images from the safety and comfort of our chair. At times however, our mind forgets; so, we turn to film reels, VHS tapes, and to the videos on our phone to retrieve and watch the precious snapshots – moments of growing, family pictures, times and places that are no longer the same. The materiality of the medium gives us a reassurance that no matter how much time passes, these memories can be found and restored, literally in the ‘home movies’, in the ‘home archives’, i.e. a place we visit and an embodiment of our memory.

In her book, Memory: Histories, Theories, Debates, Susannah Radstone (2020) argues that ‘memory has been conceived of by analogy with cinema, and in a reverse move, the cinema -and specific types of film- have been understood [as] … modes of memory’. The relations between cinema, film, and memory are thus deeply intertwined. They were also, both critiqued and romanticized. Russell A.J Kilbourn [1] connects film with nostalgia, arguing that the photographic image ‘is caught in the act’; hence that which is not filmed, is ‘dead’. But this is not necessarily true. Images are superficial; they show us a sequence, a moment, or an event. But they may fail to share what someone feels, hence they also contain an absence [2]. A personal film is an act of holding onto the loved ones, and it is about memories; but it can feel insufficient. The camera bears witness but doesn’t see, and it’s unclear if it’s possible for any of us to genuinely locate ourselves within images. This is a dualism inherent to the fabric of film since the invention of cinema; It does not restrict the capacity of a film to remember; instead, it stimulates filmmakers’ creativity.

Indeed, the last decades have seen a revival of personal cinema and first-person film practices around the world, from mobile documentary, to self-portrait, to microhistories and diary films. With more people posting pictures and videos about their private life to make them public, first-person film practices have evolved from the underground and arthouse to the democratic sphere. Sometimes tipping on voyeurism, the success of certain experimental films in this category raises ethical issues on representation and consent. And yet, the fact that such a success is possible outside the traditional means of film production is promising – It underscores the capacity of personal cinema to be an alternative to commercial cinema and gives filmmakers hope.

From a filmmaker’s perspective, taking the camera to explore herself in first-person means that she can capture and even modify the pace of time; it means that she is showing the self-becoming on screen, while negotiating with multiple forces, cinematic and others. For the viewer, watching a first-person film is also personal. It naturally leads her to draw lines of intersection and difference between herself and the filmmaker. This self-reflection fuses inside her with the feelings of nostalgia, and possibly of absence and time loss. It brings her awareness that the images are holding it all. Therefore, first-person films are incomplete by nature. Fragments of the self are laying ‘‘inside’’ and ‘‘outside”, in the past and in the future, in the presence, and in the absence. They are given to the viewer to connect; so, she can re-construct in turn, the story from the outside-in.

Why China?

First-person filmmaking practices in China are unique. They embody multiple meanings due to factors such as the affordability of digital cameras in China, diversified media tools, tightened censorship, and to the country’s intensifying social difficulties. In academic scholarship, first-person film practices are discussed as new developments in the Independent Documentary Movement, and presented in relation to the growing individualism of Chinese society. Somehow, melding together with ongoing debates on cinema verité, they raise possible tensions between truth and objectivity on the one hand, and the subjectivity of the first-person filmmaker. The latter is often expressed through the decisions of who, and what to film.

Filmmakers from inside and outside China have used first-person film practices to express and reflect on the psychological difficulty of positioning themselves in relation to the country’s rapid transformations and urbanisation. This made first-person cinema literally and metaphorically an exploration of the old home (lao jia) – both when Chinese filmmakers outside China are looking from afar at what it means to be Chinese (cultural identity); and when those inside China use the method of visiting one’s roots (home village) to reconnect with one’s self. Therefore, exploring the interplay between the personal and the political in personal cinema and first-person film practices matter considerably. So, it is at the heart of this film season.

For instance, Tianqi Yu, academic, filmmaker, artist and author of ‘My’ Self on Camera, First Person Documentary Practice in an Individualising China’ (2019) writes about Family Phobia (2010) directed by Chinese amateur filmmaker Hu Xinyu, that his decision to document the unpleasant and the conventionally prohibited moments of his family life, rather than the usual happy faces, challenges our perception of amateur home movies. This method, she says, makes film audiences aware of Hu’s inner conflicts and dilemma – how to balance traditional family obligations and hopes for individual self-realization. Indeed, Hu’s state of mind reflects a broader malaise in Chinese society. On the one hand, individuals are gaining more autonomy. On the other, they are struggling more due to the state-enforced de-collectivisation. In other words, Hu’s first-person filming practices have served in Family Phobia to create a double mirror effect, whereby Hu’s crisis is a mirror effect of the collective one. This method brings hence the individual and the collective together. It also allows the viewer to make her own connections both at a personal and less personal levels.

[1] Kilbourn, R. J. A. (Russell J. A., & Ty, E. R. (Eds.). (2013). The memory effect : the remediation of memory in literature and film. Edited Essay collection. Wilfrid Laurier University Press.

[2] Justine Smith (2023) Shooting Yourself: Film Diaries: What does it mean to make a diary film in the 21st century? https://povmagazine.com/shooting-yourself-film-diaries/

[3] An independent art community in China founded by filmmaker Wu Wenguang

[4]In 2010, pioneering Chinese filmmaker Wu Wenguang founded the Memory Project. This led to aspiring amateurs and artist filmmakers traveling to their familial villages to collect oral histories and use their diaries to make films about all sorts of themes from rural community life, to agricultural transformations and the Cultural Revolution. The Memory Project has collected over a thousand interviews and produced quantity feature-length documentaries. Website.

[5] Nurturing Open Memories: Film for Mother 2024, by Zifei Wang in Senses of Cinema