XiXi is a heartfelt essay film exploring womanhood, autonomy and the power of self-reinvention. Its story revolves around the director Fan’s friendship with XiXi, a captivating performer Fan met in Berlin. Drawn to her unique style and her Chinese roots, Fan discovers a dormant desire in herself to break free from the path of life that is expected. As the years pass, she observes the consequences of XiXi’s free-spirited nature—initially endearing but eventually troublesome. Through intimate video diaries and glimpses into the women’s daily lives, the film explores intergenerational wounds and challenges entrenched beliefs.
With XiXi, Fan Wu offers a film that provokes a dialogue on accepted social values and their impact on the most intimate existence of each individual, while questioning what the notion of freedom means.
What is freedom exactly?
At the heart of XiXi is the great question of freedom. And here, I have to admit, it’s not easy for a Quebecer to put himself in the shoes of the woman in this documentary. The differences between Western culture and the various Asian cultures are great, and with China, this is even truer. My other challenge is to separate the value of this documentary from my opinion of the protagonist.
The film travels in between the realities and inner worlds of XiXi and director Fan
Throughout the movie, with its very artistic visuals that allow us to get even deeper into XiXi’s head, we follow this woman who is trying by all means not to be like her mother, not to be the “little Chinese girl” that society would like to see. And to achieve this, she is in constant search of freedom. Her freedom as a woman, her freedom as an artist, her freedom as a person. But as the beautiful and dark images follow one another, the question that haunts the viewer, and eventually the artist herself, is this: if you want total freedom, don’t you end up putting yourself in a cage?
Thus, we see the character evolve from a selfish woman in search of her freedom, to an increasingly broken woman, who realizes that this so-called freedom comes at a price. At the heart of this questioning is XiXi’s daughter. At the start of the film, we understand that the mother has abandoned her daughter in order to live out her longed-for freedom. And that, for me, is where the difficulty of remaining objective lies. How is it possible for me, who puts taking good care of my children at the top of my list of values, to respect this woman?
Especially since the moments when she’s with her little one, it’s heartbreaking to see how bright-eyed the child is when she’s with her mother. But every time, it ends in disappointment. To present some of these moments, the director uses material shot by XiXi, who was also documenting her life. This scene is particularly beautiful and touching.
As a result, the viewer finds himself caught between two feelings. We want to love the woman, but at the same time, we’re confronted with her egocentricity and our feelings of hatred.
A subject close to its documentarian’s heart
There’s something special about this feature film. It’s the closeness between the director and her subject.
“In my last summer in Europe after studies, I befriended XiXi, a Chinese improvisation artist. For a time, we were free from the ideologies we grew up in. Over years of correspondence between Europe and Asia, our friendship that was a window to freedom, evolved into a room where what was silenced found its voice, forcing us to face the vulnerability that comes with the autonomy we realise we have always possessed.”
Fan Wu
As the movie progresses over time, we slowly sense a shift in the director’s vision. Whereas the early years show two women seeking this illusory freedom, mainly through art for Wu, and through art and travel in XiXi’s case. And provocation. Having grown up in a society that seeks to create humans according to a very specific model, these women try to show themselves as different as possible. For XiXi, this goes to a certain extreme. She, who wanted to be different from her mother – a woman who left her family to live her freedom and her art – ends up being exactly the same, and even going further in this abandonment of everything her country represents.
This excerpt, in which XiXi and Wu exchange images as the director explains what is expected of them, explains quite well what XiXi is trying to escape from.
At first glance, one might wonder how objective the documentary filmmaker is in her portrayal. But as the images progress, we can see that Wu digs deeper and deeper to really understand her character. Beautiful creative moments are also shown, since what basically unites the two women is that they are both creators.
The protagonist delivers some particularly interesting, even shocking performances, in which she pushes the pain deep inside her to the limit. As an artist, I’m sold. Her performances, which fall somewhere between contemporary dance, cinema and theater, are simply outstanding. Wu has the presence of mind to show us several of them, allowing the viewer to stay connected to XiXi so as not to simply throw her overboard, as she did with her family.
XiXi holds a heart-shaped brick while improvising in her performance
But what viewers will retain from this film is a kind of sadness, a melancholy, questioning their own lives. It’s not a particularly pleasant feeling, and that’s probably where the documentary succeeds best. This portrait becomes a window onto oneself.
A little more…
By sharing the personal journeys of Fan and XiXi, XiXi offers viewers a mirror to reflect on their own struggles and the vulnerability that arises when tracing one’s own path.
The friendship between XiXi and Fan changes each of them inside out. This is the scene where XiXi shaves Fan’s hair
The viewing experience leaves no one who has the humility to do some real introspection unscathed. Because the director’s questions resonate with both Western and Asian societies. With our lifestyles of so-called freedom, we often find ourselves much more imprisoned than we realize.
But what does freedom mean to you? Because I’m not entirely sure anymore.
