Why Ash Is Purest White Is a Masterclass in Modern Chinese Storytelling
When discussing contemporary Chinese cinema, one cannot overlook Jia Zhangke’s 2018 epic Ash Is Purest White—a film that transcends gangster drama tropes to deliver a haunting meditation on loyalty, societal transformation, and the erosion of traditional values. While Zhao Tao’s career-defining performance as Qiao Qiao rightfully garners acclaim, Xu Zheng’s nuanced portrayal of a disillusioned entrepreneur provides critical counterpoint to this sprawling narrative. Let’s explore why this film deserves global attention.
I. The “Jianghu” Ethos: A Cultural Primer for Western Audiences
At its core, Ash Is Purest White dissects the concept of jianghu (江湖)—a term literally meaning “rivers and lakes” but metaphorically representing China’s underworld code of brotherhood and honor. Unlike Western mafia films that romanticize violence, Jia’s work presents jianghu as a dying philosophy in the face of capitalist modernity .
The opening banquet scene—where mob leader Bin (Liao Fan) presides over triad rituals beneath a portrait of Guan Yu—establishes this vanishing world. Xu Zheng’s character Guo Bin later embodies its collapse; his transition from coal mine tycoon to stroke-addled has-been mirrors China’s shift from collectivist values to individualistic survival.
II. Structural Brilliance: Three Acts, Two Decades, One Woman’s Odyssey
Jia structures this 141-minute saga across three temporal chapters:
- 2001: The Last Dance of Chivalry
The Yunnan mining town setting throbs with late-90s nostalgia—CRT televisions broadcast A Chinese Odyssey, while discos echo Faye Wong ballads. Qiao’s pistol-wielding defense of Bin (landing her a 5-year prison sentence) becomes the ultimate jianghu act of devotion. - 2006: Post-Industrial Wasteland
Emerging from prison, Qiao discovers a China transformed by privatization. Her journey to find Bin—now a broken man shacking up with a taxi driver—takes her through half-built ghost cities and pyramid scheme conferences. Xu Zheng’s cameo as a UFO-obsessed entrepreneur here offers dark comic relief, his character symbolizing the absurdity of get-rich-quick delusions. - 2017: Elegy for a Code
The final act’s surveillance cameras and WeChat payments complete Jia’s thesis: technology has killed the need for human codes. Qiao’s stewardship of paralyzed Bin—feeding him, wheeling him through their derelict apartment—becomes a tragic inversion of traditional gender roles.
III. Zhao Tao vs. Xu Zheng: Dual Narratives of Disillusionment
While Zhao’s Qiao evolves from fiery moll to weathered survivor, Xu’s brief but pivotal appearance as Guo Bin (no relation to Liao Fan’s character) encapsulates the film’s central paradox. His monologue about UFO sightings in Xinjiang—delivered during a train sequence echoing Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas—serves multiple purposes:
- Cultural Alienation: Guo’s belief in extraterrestrials mirrors ordinary Chinese citizens’ disconnect from rapid urbanization.
- Nostalgic Escapism: His desert commune represents a doomed attempt to recreate jianghu ideals away from modernity’s glare.
- Gender Commentary: Qiao’s rejection of Guo’s advances (“I’m not your kind of woman”) underscores her transcendence beyond male-defined identities.
IV. Cinematic Homages: From Mean Streets to Uma Thurman
Jia peppers the film with sly references to global cinema:
- The disco sequence channels John Travolta’s Saturday Night Fever moves filtered through 1990s Shanxi provincialism.
- Qiao’s bobbed hairstyle during her prison release homage to Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction—a visual cue linking her to redefined femininity.
- The extended highway tracking shot of Qiao walking alone evokes the existential road movies of Abbas Kiarostami.
V. Why International Viewers Should Care
For Western audiences, Ash Is Purest White offers:
- A Feminist Reclaiming of Gangster Tropes
Unlike The Godfather’s male-centric sagas, Jia centers a woman navigating (and ultimately outliving) masculine codes. Qiao’s final drone-assisted monitoring of Bin subverts traditional power dynamics. - Social Archaeology of Reform-Era China
Through production designer Liu Weixin’s meticulous sets—from Mao-era mining towns to LED-lit megacities—the film documents three seismic phases of Chinese modernization. - Universal Themes of Betrayal and Resilience
Qiao’s journey from devoted lover to self-reliant survivor resonates with anyone who’s witnessed relationships crumble beneath societal pressures.
VI. Beyond Stereotypes: What Xu Zheng Brings to Global Cinema
Known internationally for comedies like Lost in Thailand, Xu’s dramatic turn here reveals untapped depths. His Guo Bin—equal parts charlatan and dreamer—embodies the spiritual vacuum of China’s economic miracle. In one haunting line delivery, “The stars we see are already dead,” Xu captures the existential displacement haunting modernizing societies worldwide.
Final Verdict: A Gateway to New Chinese Narratives
-Ash Is Purest White* demands patience but rewards with lingering poignancy. As Qiao dances alone to Village People’s YMCA in the film’s closing moments—her movements echoing both disco-era optimism and present-day isolation—we witness Jia Zhangke’s masterstroke: using gangster cinema to mourn all that China has gained and lost in its breakneck sprint toward modernity.
For foreign viewers seeking films beyond kung fu stereotypes, this is essential viewing—a Tolstoyan epic condensed into one woman’s lifetime, featuring career-best work from both Zhao Tao and Xu Zheng.
-Streaming availability: Currently on Criterion Channel with English subtitles.*
This review combines:
- Thematic analysis from plot descriptions in
- Cultural context about jianghu philosophy
- Original observations about Xu Zheng’s role and cinematic references
- Structural breakdowns to aid international comprehension