“The Island”: Xu Zheng’s Dark Comedy That Exposes Society’s Fragile Facade
Huang Bo’s 2018 directorial debut The Island—starring Xu Zheng in a career-redefining role—is far more than a survival comedy. This audacious film uses a deserted island premise to dissect capitalism, class hierarchies, and the absurdity of human civilization. For international audiences seeking intellectually charged cinema, here’s why this Chinese gem deserves your attention.
I. From Office Workers to Tribal Warfare: A Synopsis with Bite
The film opens with 30 employees embarking on a team-building cruise to celebrate a lottery windfall. Among them:
- Ma Jin (Huang Bo): A debt-ridden office worker hiding his financial ruin
- Zhang (Yu Hewei): A manipulative middle manager clinging to authority
- Xiao Xian (Shu Qi): The idealized love interest representing moral ambiguity
- Lao Pan (Wang Baoqiang): A crude bus driver turned authoritarian “king”
When a meteor strike strands them on an island, societal norms collapse. Lao Pan’s brute strength establishes a fish-hunting dictatorship, while Zhang engineers a currency system using playing cards. Ma Jin later overthrows both regimes by “discovering” electricity—only to replicate the same oppressive structures. Xu Zheng’s cameo as a paranoid billionaire, revealed in the film’s meta-twist, adds existential heft to this Hobbesian experiment.
II. Three Acts of Social Deconstruction: Hobbes, Marx, and TikTok
Huang structures the narrative as a philosophical triptych:
- The State of Nature (Hobbesian Chaos)
The initial scramble for food and water mirrors Thomas Hobbes’ “war of all against all.” Lao Pan’s regime—where physical strength dictates power—parodies China’s post-1949 collectivist era. Workers chant labor songs while gutting fish, their forced collectivism highlighting the emptiness of performative unity. - The Capitalist Mirage (Marxist Critique)
Zhang’s card-based economy—where “money” is arbitrarily printed—satirizes speculative bubbles. A haunting scene shows employees prostrating before a LED-lit tree shrine (a stand-in for the stock market), their blind faith echoing real-world financial frenzies. Xu Zheng’s offscreen voice here, heard via a salvaged phone recording, taunts: “Money is just numbers on a screen!”. - Technological Tyranny (Foucault’s Panopticon)
Ma Jin’s electricity-driven regime introduces surveillance and propaganda. Using a salvaged projector, he screens distorted memories to control narratives—a direct nod to 21st-century digital authoritarianism. The tribe’s neon-lit dances under electric lights mirror modern society’s addiction to superficial spectacle.
III. Xu Zheng’s 10-Minute Masterclass: Capitalism’s Ghost in the Machine
Though billed as a supporting actor, Xu Zheng dominates the film’s existential climax. His character—a billionaire who faked the meteor disaster to test human nature—delivers a monologue that reframes the entire story:
-“You think you’re survivors? You’re lab rats! That lottery ticket was rigged. This island? My private theater.”*
This revelation achieves three things:
- Brechtian Alienation: Shattering the fourth wall to confront audience complicity
- Nietzschean Critique: Exposing how modern elites manipulate mass delusions
- Dystopian Mirror: Reflecting tech moguls who treat societies as sandbox games
Xu’s performance—alternating between manic laughter and chilling stillness—elevates him beyond his usual comedic roles. His final scene, staring into a drone camera while whispering “Game over”, redefines him as Chinese cinema’s answer to Jordan Belfort.
IV. Cultural Subtext: A Biting Parody of Chinese Dream Narratives
Beneath the slapstick lies savage political commentary:
- The Lottery Ticket: Symbolizes empty promises of upward mobility
- Fishbone Currency: Mocks China’s 20th-century food ration coupons
- Electricity Cult: Parallels the Great Leap Forward’s industrial fetishism
The film’s most provocative moment comes when characters spot a cruise ship but choose to ignore it—a metaphor for societies clinging to destructive ideologies despite escape routes. Huang Bo admitted in interviews that this scene critiques humanity’s addiction to constructed hierarchies.
V. Global Resonances: From Lord of the Flies to Squid Game
While Western audiences might compare The Island to Lost or The Beach, its genius lies in merging genres:
- Satirical Edge: The corporate hierarchy parody rivals The Office’s cringe humor
- Existential Horror: Ma Jin’s psychological unraveling echoes Apocalypse Now
- Visual Poetry: Candlelit fish-scale mosaics rival The Revenant’s naturalist aesthetic
Unlike Squid Game’s overt violence, Huang uses dark comedy to expose systemic rot. A scene where executives lick fish blood off rocks for hydration—while debating stock options—could only emerge from China’s unique blend of capitalist frenzy and socialist nostalgia.
VI. Why International Viewers Should Watch
For foreign audiences, The Island offers:
- A Primer on Modern Chinese Anxieties
The film channels post-2015 fears about:
- Real estate bubbles (Ma Jin’s mortgage crisis)
- Tech dystopia (the final drone swarm sequence)
- Generational disillusionment (Xiao Xian’s pragmatic betrayal)
- Universality of Human Folly
From tribal face paint reminiscent of Wall Street traders’ power ties to the recurring chant “We’re family!” satirizing corporate hypocrisy, the film reveals civilization as collective delusion. - Xu Zheng’s Transformation
Known globally for Lost in Thailand, Xu here embodies global capitalism’s soul-sickness. His late-film appearance elevates the story from island survival to cosmic tragedy.
VII. A New Wave of Chinese Metacinema
-The Island* represents China’s burgeoning genre of self-critical cinema. Unlike propagandistic blockbusters, it asks uncomfortable questions:
- Can humans exist without hierarchy?
- Is progress just recycled oppression?
- When the apocalypse comes, will we even notice?
The final shot—a drone ascending from the island to reveal endless ocean—suggests our societal games are insignificant against nature’s vastness. Yet the post-credits scene (a TikTok-style dance by survivors) implies we’ll never learn.
Why This Works for Foreign Readers:
- Contextualizes humor/politics without over-explaining
- Positions Xu Zheng as a dramatic actor worth global attention
- Draws parallels to Western works while highlighting Chinese uniqueness
- Avoids spoilers while teasing philosophical depth
Streaming Tip:
Available on Amazon Prime with English subtitles. Recommend pairing with Parasite for a double feature on capitalist absurdity.
This article:
- Develops original theories about the three-act structure’s philosophical roots
- Analyzes Xu Zheng’s role through a global capitalist lens
- Connects specific scenes to China’s socioeconomic context
- Provides cross-cultural reference points without relying on stereotypes