Senior Reviewer and Journalist Lou Cai spoke to Cannes’s latest Chinese darling Qu Zhizheng, winner of the Second Prize at the La Cinef in Cannes this year.
Qu Zhizheng’s short film 12 Moments Before the Flag-Raising Ceremony follows the perspective of a middle school student who is reluctantly selected to serve as the school’s flag bearer. As he plans to quit the flag-raising team, he finds himself caught between two identities: a symbol of school pride or a “black sheep” to the collective. Through subtle storytelling and composed, mature cinematography, Qu crafts a nuanced portrait of an adolescent’s inner conflict in the search for identity within a collective. The film was awarded Second Prize in the La Cinef section at the 78th Cannes Film Festival.
Lou: Congratulations on your Cannes premiere! When your short film was first shortlisted, did you expect to win an award? What feedback did you receive from the jury?
Qu: 12 Moments Before the Flag-Raising Ceremony was originally my graduation project from some time ago, I didn’t really expect to win anything. I participated in the festival with the mindset of simply enjoying the experience. That’s why when we received some sincere feedback at Cannes it felt incredibly meaningful—and, to be honest, I feel very lucky. It made the entire journey of this film feel complete.
The other shortlisted films were all excellent, and I believe winning ultimately came down to the jury’s preference. I received a lot of feedback praising the film’s cinematography, particularly from jury members who felt it expressed a strong authorial voice.
Lou: Why doesn’t the main protagonist (Feng Xiao) want to be the flag bearer? What is going on in his mind when he makes the decision?
Qu: I think it’s actually a pretty legitimate situation—there will always be people who simply don’t want to take part in certain things. For Feng Xiao, the thought of spending his after-school time rehearsing for the ceremony, which resembles military training, feels tedious and physically exhausting. More than that, he doesn’t want to be labeled a “model student,” since the role of flag bearer is often seen as symbolic of school pride and discipline. For teenagers, that kind of representation can feel restrictive—they naturally resist roles that place them under a spotlight of expectation.
I remember when I was in school, we had school sports day and no one wanted to participate. The teacher would get angry and scold us for not considering the class’s reputation. It didn’t matter what the activity was—when it was imposed on us, resistance was inevitable.
In China, the school is a tightly regulated, emotionally charged environment. Feng Xiao’s values and personality make him instinctively reject that structure. It’s not that the role of flag bearer is inherently wrong—it just doesn’t align with who he is.
Lou: Do you think the protagonist is rejecting the idea of collectivism that the school represents?
Qu: I don’t think he’s against collectivism. I recently read Mo Yan’s Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out, a novel set during the land reform era in mid-20th century China. There’s a character named Blue Face who refuses to join the rural cooperative during the wave of collectivization. While others criticise him, he argues that even Chairman Mao said people should be persuaded—but not forced—into joining cooperatives.
Joining the flag-raising team is quite similar. No one is not explicitly forcing the boy to participate, but figures of authority—like his teacher—misinterpret his reluctance. He’s not rejecting the collective itself, nor is he showing contempt for those involved. He simply doesn’t want to be the one standing at the front during the ceremony. His choice is more about personal boundaries than ideological defiance.
Lou: In the film, we see a lot of presence of Feng Xiao’s father. What influence does the father have on the boy?
Qu: The father–son relationship in this film is quite different from how it’s often portrayed in the Western world. In many Western contexts, fathers and sons tend to be shown as more like friends—casual, emotionally open, and equal. But in this film, their relationship is defined by hierarchy. It resembles that of a boss and his subordinate, where the father gives constant orders and expects obedience. It reflects a more vertical structure of authority—one that the boy is expected to accept, regardless of how he feels.
Lou: In the film, we first see the father slapping his son in the car. There’s a scene where the boy slaps himself later on. How did you write and approach these two moments?
Qu: While writing, I fully understood the father’s motivation for slapping his son. As a parent, there are moments when you feel helpless or cornered, and you react instinctively—sometimes with frustration that turns physical. It’s not justified, but it’s a very human response.
The boy’s self-slapping later on is partly a reflection of this dynamic. He’s internalised his father’s method of discipline—it’s become a learned behaviour. But it also represents an emotional deadlock. After being criticised by the teacher, he feels cornered and overwhelmed, with no outlet for his frustration. It’s similar to when a couple argues to the breaking point and one says, “Fine, I’ll just die then.” It’s not a solution—it’s a form of protest. But it’s a protest that comes from a place of complete powerlessness.
Lou: We didn’t get to see the main character’s mother in the film. Was her absence intentional?
Qu: In earlier drafts of the script, the mother was included. Feng’s parents were divorced, and there was a dinner scene where the father scolds the boy, saying he has a personality similar to his mother. But eventually, I decided to remove her from the story. I wanted to keep the narrative simple, and ultimately, I felt her character didn’t add much to the core of the film.
Lou: If the mother had been included, do you think her presence might have offered more emotional support to the boy?
Qu: I hadn’t considered that before, but it’s a very valid assumption.
Lou: The school interview scene has a more distinctive cinematographic style than the rest of the film. How did you approach and design it?
Qu: The script of this scene went through a lot of changes. I’ve always enjoyed injecting some humour into my work, so the early drafts had several “playful” scenes—especially the interview sequence. I originally wrote two additional scenes in a similar tone but eventually removed them to maintain the film’s more restrained atmosphere.
That interview scene ended up being a key transitional moment, helping the audience better understand the boy’s discomfort with his environment. We used a real school broadcast machine from 15 years ago and filmed with two cameras performing identical dolly movements. At one point, we took the camera off the tripod to create a looser, more spontaneous feel. In the final version, we used a sharper lens and filmed the scene from a first-person perspective.
It’s one of my favourite scenes in the film—I watched the playback many times. We did over 20 takes, and by the last one, the actress who is playing the reporter’s mouth was so dry that she could barely speak. When we wrapped, there were only two seconds left on the memory card. That last take was the one we used.
Lou: There’s a sense of satire toward the educational system in this film. Interestingly, the project was supported by the Beijing Municipal Education Commission. How did you receive that funding?
Qu: The funding actually came through my university’s Joint Graduation Project program. Each year, they select around ten student films to support, and the funding technically comes from the Beijing Municipal Education Commission—so their name are credited in the film. But honestly, it’s very likely they don’t even know my film exists.
Lou: Recently, short films have had to go through censorship in order to screen at international festivals. What was your experience with that process?
Qu: The approval process was similar to that of feature films, with three different reviews. It went quite smoothly—I wasn’t asked to make any edits or changes, which I think suggests the film was seen as rational and objective by the authorities.
Lou: Are there any upcoming screenings after Cannes?
Qu: Yes, there will be more. In fact, although I’m proud to have it premiered at Cannes, I’m actually more nervous about showing the film in China.
Cannes felt like presenting the film to the “dark side of the Earth,” so to speak. But once it screens back home in China, it is a story about us. I’m more worried about how people will react—if they say I misrepresented something, that would weigh on me more.
Lou: Are you preparing for any upcoming projects?
Qu: I’m about to begin shooting a short documentary about my grandmother. I actually filmed a version of it back in my sophomore year, but my technical skills weren’t strong at the time, so I’d like to revisit and reshoot it properly.
While making 12 Moments Before the Flag-Raising Ceremony, I was heavily inspired by Michael Haneke. But I also really admire Ruben Östlund and Jia Zhangke—both are among my favourite directors. In the future, I hope to make feature films that carry a sense of humour.
