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«It’s about keeping their spirits very real» – an Interview with director Dongnan Chen

With «Whispers in May», director Dongnan Chen moves beyond the classic coming-of-age narrative to capture the fragile final moments of childhood. Set in the mountains of rural China, the film follows three girls from the Yi minority as they embark on a journey surrounding a traditional ceremony that marks their transition into womanhood. We met the director at this year's «Visions du Réel».

Von Gastautor*in

Text von Gastautorin Luisa Kühne

Fourteen-year-old Qihuo, Atnyop and Itgop. Qihuo has just got her first period. Together with her two best friends, she sets out to receive the traditional skirt that marks the end of childhood among the Yi people. This ritual symbolises the transition into adulthood, associated with marriage and work. Since their parents are away working as migrant labourers, Qihuo, Atnyop and Itgop set out on a journey to buy the ceremonial skirt on their own. The journey along the mountain trails captures a final moment of their childhood before the girls have to enter adulthood.

Why do you call your film an anti-coming-of-age movie?

Dongnan Chen: «Whispers in May» is not really about growing up. In a coming-of-age movie, you see a person gradually mature and go into adult life. For this film we intentionally choose only to focus on this very short moment between girlhood and womanhood, right before womanhood officially happens, before the reality of the adult world grabs on to her; it’s more about the right to remain and enjoy this very last moment of childhood.

The movie takes place in the Liangshan Mountains, a Yi or Nuosu ethnic autonomous prefecture in southwestern China. The community has a skirt-changing ritual; can you tell a bit about that ritual?

Women need to have three important skirts in their life. The first one is for menstruation. The second skirt is for marriage; the third one is for the funeral. At the funeral, all the skirts of her life will be burnt together with her body.

And how does the first skirt ceremony take place?

If a girl has her menstruation, the village will have the changing skirt ceremony. That means you change into a skirt of the adult style in front of the village people, witnessed by your relatives and neighbours; it’s a public event. That basically means this girl will no longer be a part of her birth family. But if a girl doesn’t belong to her birth family, as a woman, she cannot be independent. She needs to be married to something abstract before she’s officially married to a man. So that’s what happens in that ceremony. In some cases, she will be virtually married to a tree or just a doorstep. Something that’s very concrete in life or something in nature, like a mountain. That’s a virtual marriage.

What does that ceremony mean for the family?

It gives her parents the right to marry her off right after the ceremony. Even though child marriage is illegal in China from the government side, Liangshan has its old traditions. The one temptation for the parents to marry off their daughters as soon as possible is because the dowry money is huge in that area. It can be $50,000. This money comes from the husband’s family; it’s one of the major sources of income for households.

And how was the situation for the main girl, Qihuo?

Qihuo has an older brother. So the family needs to marry her off first and is waiting for Qihuo’s money to get her brother a wife. That’s what she is facing.

In the film, we hear her mother on the phone, encouraging her to start working. How does this tension play out between the efforts of the government and schools to keep children in education and the economic realities and expectations within families?

It’s a luxury to let your kids just go to school without earning money, even though the school is free. But there are still little fees, like accommodation or books.

There are conflicts between what the school and government want and what families and children feel is realistic or desirable. The government and schools make strong efforts to keep children in education. The kids sleep at school during the week because their parents are away working in factories. In this sense, schools take on not only an educational role but also act as caretakers. But it’s quite common in these areas for children to drop out after primary school and work at the factories.

For example, Atnyop and Itgop chose to leave school and work in factories in Southern China. They even went as far as faking their parents’ signatures to officially withdraw, showing how strong their desire was to start earning money and seek independence. Many young people are drawn or feel pushed toward immediate economic opportunities. In some cases, factory work is seen not just as a necessity but as the only option they have to move forward or even as a form of escape. But factory work is such a temporary job. For Atnyop and Itgop, they have been travelling across China. They change their jobs all the time. They learn how to make phone cases and they learn how to make drones. They’ve been at a packaging factory and a toy factory. They know everything now.

And how about Qihuo?

Qihuo actually dropped out this February. She had stayed in school long enough to finish junior high, but even during that time, her parents put a lot of pressure on her and had already arranged for her to meet different boys. I think this affected her mental health. After graduating, she suddenly called me one day saying her father was coming back from the factory to marry her off. She was trying to escape the night before he arrived, so she asked me for money for the trip. We reacted quickly and found a vocational high school. I initially supported her financially for the first semester because everything happened so fast. She attended school from September to January and then had a break for Chinese New Year. The plan was for her to return afterward, but then she called me and said she didn’t want to go back. Now she’s working in a factory.

Why did she decide to drop out of the vocational high school?

When I talked to her, she was saying that she wants to go to a factory to earn some money and that her school is not far away enough from her home. I think that’s the main reason. She wants to be even further away from home. I think too many noises made her feel it’s easier for her to start a factory life so she can give money back to her parents.

How did the idea for the film come about?

It wasn’t really planned. I was working on a commission about women’s stories in the Liangshan area, doing research and reading texts written by students. That’s how I first came across Qihuo; her writing really impressed me. But what mattered more was the feeling when I met her. That initial chemistry is very important to me, because filmmaking is an intimate, long-term relationship. You’ve been connected for years, and the film will exist forever. For me, that personal connection matters more than whether someone has a dramatic story.

You went on a road trip with the girls for this film. There were some scenes that seemed dangerous. For example, when they went to an abandoned house to sleep there. How did you navigate between letting them explore and then also being there for them when they needed something? How was this process?

For us as a team, there was a preparation phase of about a month of research. We had already walked the route. It was new for them, but not for us. We needed to scout everything for safety reasons, do checks, and have plan Bs in place. So while it feels completely unknown and spontaneous for them, we know how to navigate the situation and be there when needed.

At the same time, it’s a collaborative process. I invited them to make a film together. They are the stars but also co-creators. We talked a lot about what kind of film they wanted to make and what would feel meaningful to them at this very special time. On one side, there is their desire to escape, to see a bigger world. But on the other side, a bigger passion actually comes from wanting to make a film. And that creates a balance I have to take care of, because they’re not actors. If you push too much, it becomes artificial. So it’s about keeping their spirits very real.

How did you manage that?

We had this outline we wrote together before we set out on this road trip. I asked them what they wanted to happen, so they were part of this planning process and knew there are design elements, meaning they are kind of conscious to act a little, but in a way, they’re not asked to do something specific. Like even when you’re just doing a pure documentary, people can be performative in front of cameras.

I think it really helped that they’re best friends in real life. It would have been hard to take out one girl to make a film. But once they’re together, everything just naturally flows. You know, even when we were filming the lonely scenes of Qihuo, her friends were with her. She asks them to be standing with the crew all the time. She couldn’t do it alone.

In the movie we also see that Qihuo is in a house all by herself, kind of in a homeless state. How come?

Qihuo grew up with her grandfather. It’s because he died a few months ago before I met her. So nobody’s taking care of her at that time. So she was like today at her cousin’s and the other day at her uncle’s. And she really hated that. She doesn’t want to live under somebody else’s roof. That’s why she always sneaked back to her grandpa’s old house. Which is pretty abandoned by time. And for other kids, sometimes they have grandparents. Sometimes if they have an older brother or sister. Even at 14 they can run a household to take care of younger children in that area.

What meaning does the Soma flower have that we see on top of the mountains in the end?

It’s a very special, sacred flower for the Nuoso community. They have a lot of legends and tales about that flower. They usually bloom at the end of spring on the very mountaintop. It’s something they worship. It’s a flower that represents purity and also mystical power. There’s one tale about how Soma flowers save the lives of Nuoso ancestors.

Could you tell me a bit more about the tale you integrated into the movie?

During filming the girls always told this tale to each other. They even did role plays. One always played the monster called «Coqotamat». Even though they were very playful, they were also terrified about it and really scared themselves off during the nights. I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to this tale, but later on, I just started to feel like how it resonates with the steps of their road trip. You know, somehow they echo each other. Then I started to ask around about the story because I hadn’t heard it from anywhere else. It turns out a lot of people know that story in the Liangshan area. It’s a purely oral story. It is passed down from generation to generation. And different areas would have a different version. So it’s pretty alive. In a way it’s a heritage, but it’s also imagination. Like people add on to it. 

The girls also have their different versions. I felt it deserved more important placing in this film and letting it go parallel to the girl’s story. Fairy tales are super interesting; they are ways to encode the real dangers of the adult world to the kids. They are like survival kits for the kids. Something to prep them when they grow up. These tales are very universal again.

For this film, three words?

Fleeting. Magic. Wilding. Some little magic that happens in life sometimes.

20. Mai 2026

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