Title: “Xu Zheng’s ‘Mr. Go’ (摩登年代): A Surrealist Ode to the Lost Art of Wonder in Modern China”
Introduction: When Magic Meets Megacities
In an age where skyscrapers eclipse starlight and algorithms predict human desires, Xu Zheng’s Mr. Go (2013) resurrects the dying craft of analog wonder. Directed by Shao Xiaolui, this tragically underappreciated gem subverts the “magic movie” genre by framing illusion not as escapism, but as a survival tactic for China’s urban disenfranchised. Xu stars as Ou David, a washed-up magician reduced to performing at shopping mall openings, whose life collides with a precocious orphan girl claiming to be his daughter. What unfolds is neither a saccharine family drama nor a CGI spectacle, but a Kafkaesque journey through China’s socioeconomic contradictions, told through the metaphor of broken magic tricks .
Part I: Narrative Alchemy – Conjuring Hope from Urban Decay
- The Illusionist as Modern Anti-Hero
Ou David’s magic shows—failed levitations, botched card tricks—mirror the dashed dreams of China’s “ant tribe” generation. His signature trick, “The Disappearing Elephant,” becomes a running joke when venues can’t accommodate props, echoing the spatial constraints of migrant workers in Shenzhen’s 6m² micro-apartments. The film’s opening sequence, where Xu stumbles through a performance using repurposed construction site materials (steel pipes as wands, cement bags as capes), visually parallels the DIY hustle culture dominating Chinese social media platforms like Douyin . - Orphanhood as Collective Condition
The girl Mengmeng (Zhang Zifeng) represents China’s “left-behind children” epidemic—70 million minors raised by grandparents while parents work in cities. Her insistence that Ou is her father, despite DNA evidence to the contrary, evolves into a radical thesis: in an era of fractured families, we must choose our kinship. Their evolving dynamic—part mentor-protégé, part co-conspirators—recalls the found families in Kore-eda’s Shoplifters, but with distinctly Chinese characteristics .
Part II: Xu Zheng’s Performance – Tragic Clowning in the Age of Cynicism
- Physical Comedy as Social Commentary
Xu’s genius lies in transforming slapstick into sociological text. A scene where Ou attempts a Houdini-style underwater escape—only to find the tank filled with contaminated river water—becomes a dark metaphor for environmental degradation. His flailing limbs and bulging eyes channel Charlie Chaplin’s Modern Times, but with updated stakes: where Chaplin fought machines, Xu battles the soul-crushing gig economy . - The Weight of Fatherhood
In the film’s quietest moment, Ou practices a coin trick while murmuring, “Real magic isn’t making things disappear—it’s making responsibilities appear.” Xu’s delivery—half self-mockery, half confession—culminates in cinema’s most unorthodox paternal pledge: teaching Mengmeng to pick locks instead of piano. This inversion of “tiger parenting” tropes critiques China’s obsession with utilitarian education, proposing street-smart survival as the ultimate life skill .
Part III: Cinematic Sorcery – When Production Design Becomes Cultural Critique
- Urban Landscapes as Character
Production designer Qiu Zhiwei crafts a China that’s equal parts Blade Runner and Dali painting. Neon-lit shopping malls float above flooded streets; magicians’ workshops hide behind unmarked doors in Glovo delivery hubs. The climactic performance at a half-demolished theater—its collapsing ceiling revealing cranes and unfinished skyscrapers—serves as a perfect metaphor for China’s “permanent construction” modernity . - The Soundtrack of Disenchantment
Composer Nathan Wang subverts expectations by scoring magic tricks with industrial noise—grinding gears, WeChat notification pings. Only when Ou and Mengmeng create their own illusions (a “flying” bicycle made of scrap metal) does the music swell with orchestral wonder, suggesting authentic magic arises from grassroots ingenuity, not commercial spectacles .
Part IV: Why Global Audiences Need This Film
- A Missing Link in Chinese New Wave
While art-house darlings like Jia Zhangke dissect urbanization through realism, Mr. Go employs magical realism to achieve similar ends. Its DNA contains traces of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s Amélie (whimsical outsiders) and Bong Joon-ho’s The Host (social critique through genre), filtered through Shanghai’s hyper-capitalist landscape. - Post-Pandemic Resonance
The film’s central question—”Can wonder survive in a disenchanted world?”—hits harder after COVID-19. Ou’s final trick, performed via livestream to empty seats, prefigured our era of virtual performances and eroded communal joy. - Xu Zheng as Global Everyman
Fans of Robin Williams’ The Fisher King or Roberto Benigni’s Life is Beautiful will recognize Xu’s gift for blending comedy with existential pathos. His Ou David joins cinema’s pantheon of lovable losers who teach us to find miracles in the mundane.
Conclusion: The Spell That Reenchants the World
-Mr. Go* doesn’t merely entertain—it performs cultural acupuncture, targeting the pressure points of China’s modernization trauma. For international viewers, it offers a window into the psychological costs of breakneck development, while proposing radical hope: that a generation raised on concrete and QR codes might still rediscover wonder through cracked mirrors and secondhand props.
As the credits roll over Ou and Mengmeng’s improvised street performance—crowdless, payment optional, pure in its scrappy artistry—we’re reminded that magic never died. It just learned to adapt.
References & Further Viewing
- Compare with Xu’s exploration of parenthood in Lost in Russia (2020)
- China’s urban transformation: A Touch of Sin (2013)
- Magic as resistance: The Illusionist (2006) vs. Mr. Go’s pragmatic mysticism