Ever since I began my career as a writer and critic in December 2019, I have had the pleasure of seeing many good films that I have enjoyed and recommended to readers and friends. Some of those good films are great. Some of those great movies are amazing, and some of those amazing films I consider so perfect that they end up on the top of my best-of-the-year lists with 10/10s stamped on them, a score I don’t give out very easily. Yet even amongst this sea of great cinema, I have yet to encounter a film that I could definitively consider the best film of the decade, something I have been obsessed with finding since publishing my first review. There have certainly been films that have temporarily claimed that title, like The Boy and the Heron, Evangelion 3.0 + 1.0 Thrice Upon a Time, and I’m Thinking of Ending Things.

However, for the longest time, I thought I would go the rest of the 2020s without having found that definitive best movie of the decade. Luckily, after five years of searching, I finally found the masterpiece I was seeking with Bi Gan’s latest film and future classic, Resurrection. 

It’s almost impossible to articulate just how much Resurrection affected me on a deep, personal level because, frankly speaking, no amount of words can honestly describe the transcendent, spiritual, yet transient experience I had watching this film. It reminded me of when I first watched Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, Ran, Angel’s Egg, and End of Evangelion in that it felt less like a traditional narrative with characters and a plot and more like a brief but powerful state of transcendence in which, for a few hours, the only thing that mattered was myself and the art I was watching. This is an occurrence I rarely encounter as a critic, so whenever I do, I try my very best to hold on and never let go. This rare emotional feeling isn’t the result of Resurrection being pretentious or overly complex; if anything, the film has a fairly simple premise that almost anyone can comprehend and connect with, even if they don’t catch all the nitty-gritty details on a first watch.

The film takes place in the future, where most of humanity has sacrificed their ability to dream in exchange for immortality. The only ones still capable of dreaming are called Deliriants, and they are hunted by a group called the Other Ones. One member of this group, Miss Shu (Shu Qi), captures a monstrous-looking Deliriant (Jackson Yee) and grants him a quiet and peaceful death by installing a film projector inside him, allowing him to live out his dreams while she witnesses them as well. If it’s not apparent already, dreams in this film serve as metaphorical representations of cinema itself and the power art can have over an audience member. While not exactly subtle, it makes total sense that the movie would tie cinema and dreams so closely together since, after all, both are stories we witness for a fleeting moment but can nonetheless have profound effects on us. This results in Resurrection becoming a film within a film, or should I say films within a film, as the rest of the movie is structured into six separate chapters that, according to director Bi Gan, correlate with each of the five senses and the mind. 

There have been many movies about movies that use surreal and whimsical techniques to exemplify the power of movie magic. Still, Resurrection takes this narrative device one step further by using the evolution of cinema as a window to explore almost 100 years of Chinese history, creating a mirror reflection between fiction and reality. Resurrection isn’t an impressive piece of art because it’s six movies within a single one; it’s a cinematic achievement because Gan painstakingly makes all six segments equally engaging, with each one having its own unique plot, style of filmmaking, aspect ratios, color schemes, lighting, tones, and time periods that reflect various points of Chinese history. The film is never repetitive or redundant because the stark contrasts between each chapter ensure I’m always watching something new every 30ish minutes. Whether it’s set in 1999 with lots of tracking shots and neon red bursting in almost every frame, or in the early 20th century with more traditional shots and desaturated colors, every chapter manages to grip me just long enough to keep me immersed without overstaying its welcome. In fact, they are all so effective that I only learned afterwards that its lead star, Jackson Yee, plays the protagonist in every single segment of the film. This is a monumentally impressive feat from Yee, as he gives six equally compelling performances that look and act distinct so that it never feels as if I’m repeatedly watching the same actor.

I cannot express how much of a technical marvel Resurrection is, as this film is drop-dead gorgeous to look at, with not a single visually dull moment. Bi Gan has already proven in his past filmography that he has an eye for capturing amazing-looking cinematography, but he truly outdid himself with this one. Every frame of this movie is filled to the brim with lavishly produced shots that burst with color and personality, all of which is enhanced by the movie’s fantastic score by M83, which brings a sense of etherealness to the film’s reflective and moody tone that almost feels evocative of the soundtrack of 2001: A Space Odyssey. While I loved every shot in Resurrection, my favorite part (both from a cinematography perspective and in general) is the final chapter, which is all shot in one continuous take. Shooting the final portion of his movie in a single take is not a new occurrence for Gan, as he accomplished a similarly impressive feat in his previous film, Long Day’s Journey Into Night, in which the last hour of the film consists of an unbroken oner. However, I personally found the oner in Resurrection even more impressive, despite not being as long, because not only is there so much more happening in the background—resulting in so much more coordination and possibilities of mistakes—but it’s used within a narrative that I overall connected with more than the one in Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

However, as impressive as all the technical elements are in this film, what makes Resurrection the best movie of the 2020s is not these elements in and of themselves, but how they are used to channel a central message that I found intelligently profound and emotionally weighty. A common issue I often have with movies about movies is that they can come across as either overly sappy or unbearably repetitive, both of which result in reductive, surface-level “gee whiz, isn’t filmmaking great and/or difficult” messages. That’s not to say every film of this genre is like this, as movies like The Player, Ed Wood, and Adaptation are substantive commentaries about the industry and film in general, while also being consistently well-made and entertaining. Yet Resurrection stands out because it focuses less on the mechanical aspects of what makes films and filmmaking essential and more on the spiritual nature of cinema and why this art form influences us so much.

Resurrection makes the point that dreaming is a core aspect of what fundamentally makes us human. It’s as natural as breathing air or drinking water, so to give up the ability to dream is like ripping out your own heart. Every time you go to sleep, you enter a subconscious movie theater in your brain where you have the front-row seat to a film tailor-made for you and only you. The dream may get weird, absurd, and nonsensical, but that’s what makes dreams so exciting. They create personal and ethereal moments of immersion, so for Gan to use cinema as a metaphorical stand-in for dreams makes perfect sense because, in many ways, films are as close as humanity can get to turning dreams into a tangible reality that everyone can watch. Both movies and dreams provide transient yet powerful moments of emotional catharsis, whether positive or negative, and to go the rest of our lives without these abstract expressions would be to deny something vital to our existence. For every beautifully filmed and gripping chapter that plays throughout this film, it’s just one reminder after another of why I fell in love with this medium in the first place and am sitting here writing this review for you to read.

At the same time, cinema is just as much a personal piece of art as it is a widespread one. Everyone can go and watch a movie, but the experience you have watching it is specifically unique to you. It may have some parallels to how other people felt while watching it, but ultimately, no one can replicate or replace your own personal journey. Without spoiling (as I want as many people to see this film), this idea is exemplified in the film’s final scene. It was jaw-dropping and breathtaking to watch as I sat alone in my chair with my thoughts while the scene and its accompanying music played. In fact, it’s exemplified in this movie itself because, at the end of the day, this perspective on the importance of dreams and cinema could only have come from a young Chinese auteur filmmaker named Bi Gan. The director channelled his love of cinema into creating a piece of art that comes from such a unique perspective, cultural background, and history that I could never even conceive of something similar in my wildest dreams.

Despite being 36 years old and having made only three feature-length films, Bi Gan has already proven he is a master of his craft, creating some of the most unique and engaging modern films, especially within the arthouse sphere. I was already a fan of his after watching Long Day’s Journey Into Night, but Resurrection is not only a far better film in almost every way technically, narratively, and thematically, but it is also a modern 2001: A Space Odyssey or 8½ destined to be studied and remembered as a future classic that future filmmakers will take influence from when making their own masterpiece. Bi Gan has become one of my new favorite filmmakers to watch, and I cannot wait to see what this man will dream up next.

Rating: 10/10