The Botanist is director Jing Yi’s debut feature film. It premiered at the 75th Berlinale and won the Grand Prix of the International Jury for Best Film in the Generation Kplus section.
★★★★☆ 4/5
This film immerses us in an untouched world through a young boy’s eyes. Amidst nature’s magic, his home is under threat, and he tries to keep it close to him. A quiet yet powerful tale of loss and hope, this film captivates with breathtaking visuals, urging us to cherish nature and recognise our responsibility to preserve it in this fast changing world.
The film is partly based on Jing’s childhood memories of living in Xinjiang province, depicting a dreamlike, nomadic, and carefree life in one of the most remote villages in China. In the village our protagonist is a Kazakh boy named Arsin, who loves investigating and collecting plants and is seen as a little botanist. His puppy-love girlfriend, a Han Chinese girl named Meiyu, shares a sweet and innocent relationship with him. Despite coming from two different ethnicities, their bond grows like the beautiful plants in Xinjiang. However, Arsin soon learns that Meiyu will be leaving for Shanghai after the summer holidays. His brother, who once sought opportunities in big cities like Beijing but returned home defeated, is also set to leave again. Arsin is left facing loneliness once more.
The Botanist serves as Jing’s love letter to his hometown. Through Arsin’s perspective, we explore the grandeur and delicacy of Xinjiang’s landscapes. His passion for plants offers him comfort and peace, and through his eyes, the region’s beauty is vividly captured. The cinematography is delicate, soothing, and serene — a true visual delight. Although Xinjiang is not in southern China, the artistic expression in The Botanist resonates with the essence of the South China New Wave. It evokes the style of other recent works in this genre, such as Borrowed Time and Gone with the Boat. In particular, we hear Arsin’s voiceover, narrating an old story about his uncle in the film, and it features poetic lines reminiscent of Bi Gan’s Kaili Blues.
A notable aspect of the film is its reflection on the relationship between Kazakhs and Han Chinese. Kazakhs, an ethnic minority living in northwest China, symbolise the remote, peaceful, and traditionally rooted life in Xinjiang. In contrast, the Han Chinese often represent the modern, rapidly developing side of the country. Throughout the film, we frequently hear radio broadcasts announcing the government’s plans to renovate the village. The presence of dump trucks and construction sites further signifies the encroachment of modernisation. The repeated use of the radio serves as a subtle reminder of how the Han influence is transforming this remote community.
As childhood friends prepare to part ways and the village that once called home undergoes inevitable change, the innocence of youth fades away, leaving behind a lingering sense of sorrow.
