It is rare to find a movie that feels like a whisper in a room full of shouting. That is exactly what the under the hawthorn tree film—directed by the legendary Zhang Yimou—is. Released in 2010, it didn’t rely on the high-flying martial arts of Hero or the neon-soaked visuals of House of Flying Daggers. Instead, it went small. Really small. It’s a story about a girl, a boy, and a tree during the Cultural Revolution in China.
Most people today are used to romances that move at the speed of light. You swipe, you meet, you move on. But this movie? It’s a slow burn. It’s painful. Honestly, it’s probably one of the purest depictions of "first love" ever put on digital sensor. You’ve got Zhang Zhehan and Zhou Dongyu (in her debut role!) playing Jingqiu and Lao San, and their chemistry is just... effortless.
The Raw Context of the Cultural Revolution
To understand why the under the hawthorn tree film works, you have to understand the mess that was the 1960s and 70s in China. It wasn't just about politics. It was about fear. Jingqiu, our lead, comes from a "politically suspect" family. Her father is labeled a rightist. In that era, one wrong move—one unauthorized conversation—could ruin your entire family's future.
When she gets sent to the countryside for "re-education" through labor, she meets Lao San. He’s the son of a high-ranking military officer. On paper, they shouldn't even be talking. But they do. They share candy. They walk across a river together holding opposite ends of a stick because actually touching hands is too scandalous. It sounds cheesy when you write it down, but on screen, it feels like the highest stakes imaginable.
Zhang Yimou uses a very specific visual style here. He stripped away his usual obsession with saturated colors. The film looks almost desaturated, dusty, and lived-in. It feels like an old photograph you found in your grandmother's attic. That’s intentional. He wanted to strip away the "director" and just show the people.
Why Zhou Dongyu Changed Everything
Before this movie, Zhou Dongyu was a high school student. Zhang Yimou reportedly auditioned thousands of girls across China. He was looking for "purity." That’s a word that gets tossed around a lot in film PR, but with Zhou, it was real. She had this nervous, bird-like energy that perfectly captured a girl living under the thumb of a repressive regime.
💡 You might also like: Greatest Rock and Roll Singers of All Time: Why the Legends Still Own the Mic
The under the hawthorn tree film launched her into superstardom. If you look at her career now, she’s a powerhouse, winning Best Actress at the Golden Horse Awards and the Hong Kong Film Awards. But here? She’s just Jingqiu. She’s terrified of her mother finding out she’s seeing a boy. She’s worried about her job prospects. She’s trying to navigate a world where a hawthorn tree that supposedly bloomed with red flowers (fed by the blood of martyrs, or so the propaganda says) is the most exciting thing in the village.
The Reality of "Clean Love" (Shanchun)
There’s a term in China associated with this movie: Shanchun. It translates roughly to "pure and innocent love."
At the time of its release, Chinese audiences were actually a bit divided. Some younger viewers found the lack of even a kiss to be unrealistic. They called it "pure to the point of being fake." But older generations? They wept. They remembered those days. They remembered when holding hands was a revolutionary act. The film taps into a collective nostalgia for a time when things were simpler, even if they were much harder.
Lao San is the ultimate "green flag" character before that was a thing. He waits for her. He protects her from a distance. He buys her boots so she doesn't have to walk in the mud. He is, quite frankly, too good to be true. But in the context of the under the hawthorn tree film, you want him to be. You need him to be the bright spot in Jingqiu’s gray world.
A Breakdown of the Plot's Emotional Weight
The story is based on a semi-autobiographical novel by Ai Mi. While some critics argue the movie softens the political edges of the book, the emotional core remains.
📖 Related: Ted Nugent State of Shock: Why This 1979 Album Divides Fans Today
- The Meeting: Jingqiu arrives in Xiping village. She sees the hawthorn tree. She meets Lao San, who is working at a nearby geological site.
- The Secret: Their romance is conducted in the shadows. They meet by the river. They exchange small gifts.
- The Conflict: Jingqiu's mother finds out. She doesn't hate Lao San, but she’s terrified for her daughter. She makes Lao San promise not to see her for a year until she secures her teaching position.
- The Tragedy: Just as things seem to be stabilizing, Lao San gets sick. It's the classic melodrama trope—leukemia—but handled with a restraint that makes it feel raw rather than manipulative.
The final scene in the hospital is legendary for its minimalism. No swelling orchestras. No screaming. Just a girl repeating her name to a man who can barely open his eyes. "I am Jingqiu. I am Jingqiu." It’s devastating.
Critical Reception and Global Impact
Critics like Roger Ebert noted that the film was a "quiet, simple, and very beautiful" work. It didn't win the big prizes at Cannes or Venice like Zhang's earlier works, but it did something more important: it re-established him as a director who could handle human intimacy, not just spectacle.
The under the hawthorn tree film also signaled a shift in Chinese cinema. It proved that there was a massive market for "nostalgia films." Since then, we've seen a flood of movies set in the 70s and 80s, but few have the sincerity of this one. It avoids the "clutter" of modern storytelling. There are no subplots. There are no side characters getting in the way. It is a laser-focused look at two souls.
Addressing the Misconceptions
Some people think this is a political movie. It isn't. Not really.
Yes, the Cultural Revolution is the backdrop. Yes, the political pressure is the "villain" that keeps them apart. But Zhang Yimou isn't making a grand statement about Maoism here. He's making a statement about how humans try to find beauty when the world around them is trying to make everything uniform and dull.
👉 See also: Mike Judge Presents: Tales from the Tour Bus Explained (Simply)
Another misconception is that the movie is "too slow." Honestly, if you're looking for a fast-paced plot, this isn't it. But if you want to see how a director uses a single bicycle or a piece of cloth to tell a story, it's a masterclass. The pacing reflects the time. Life moved slower then. Letters took days to arrive. Love took months to blossom.
Actionable Takeaways for Movie Lovers
If you're planning to watch the under the hawthorn tree film for the first time, or if you're a film student looking to analyze it, keep these points in mind:
- Watch the eyes: Zhou Dongyu’s performance is 90% in her eyes. Notice how she rarely looks Lao San directly in the face at the beginning. It’s a perfect physicalization of her character's repression.
- The color red: Keep an eye out for how the color red is used. In a film that is mostly brown, green, and gray, the pops of red—a basin, a shirt, the mythical flowers—carry immense weight.
- Sound design: Notice the silence. There are long stretches with no dialogue. This isn't "dead air"; it's space for the audience to breathe and feel the isolation of the rural landscape.
- Contrast with "The Road Home": If you like this, watch Zhang Yimou’s The Road Home (1999). It’s a spiritual predecessor and shows how his style evolved from film to digital.
The legacy of the under the hawthorn tree film isn't in its box office numbers, though it did very well in China. Its legacy is in how it redefined the "romance" genre for a generation of viewers who were tired of artifice. It’s a reminder that the most powerful stories are often the ones told with the fewest words.
To truly appreciate the film's nuance, one should look into the history of "Sent-down youth" in China. This historical movement saw millions of urban teenagers relocated to the countryside. Understanding that this wasn't a choice, but a mandate, adds a layer of desperation to Jingqiu and Lao San's relationship. Their love wasn't just a choice; it was an act of reclaiming their own lives.
For those interested in exploring the film further, start by comparing the visual language of the 2010 film to the 2012 television series adaptation. You'll see how Zhang Yimou's "less is more" approach in the film creates a much more visceral emotional impact than the expanded narrative of a TV show. Focus on the use of natural light and the way the camera lingers on small gestures—a hand hovering near a shoulder, or the way a character carefully folds a piece of paper. These are the details that make the movie a timeless piece of cinema.