Gui tu lie che

Last Train Home is heartbreaking, incredibly moving, and documentary film-making at its best. Director Lixin Fan forces no comment, political otherwise, as he follows the lives of two Chinese migrant workers over a period of two years. The camera is purely an observer- it's this kind of focused observational film-making that makes this film so moving and poignant.

Reality is bleak for some 130 million Chinese migrant workers who work for long hours sewing clothes in derelict factories and travel huge distances home to their families just once a year during Chinese New Year. The journey is chaotic, brutal, and the physical and emotional toll is high - but the damage it does to families is even greater. Changhua Zhang and Suqin Chen work hard to provide for a more promising future for their children. Their daughter Qin is a lonely and unfulfilled teenager who harbours much resentment towards the parents that have been largely absent from her life. She decides to quit school and become a migrant worker herself, treading that same path that her parents have worked so tirelessly to prevent.

To witness the estrangement and disconnect within the family is heart- wrenching. The camera captures expressions and scenes of humanity that speak volumes of the lifelong ordeal of China's migrant workers. While the country has reaped many benefits from its export-driven economy, it is questionable as to whether the workers, the very engine of this rising prosperity, have seen any margin of fortune themselves.

This is a human story so mercilessly gripping that it should resonate with all. How we live in the western hemisphere is directly interwoven with the lives of people halfway across the world. Last Train Home is a sharp reminder of that. This is a superbly crafted film that you need to watch.

There is a brief scene in this semi-documentary where one of the workers working on an immense pile of blue jeans for import to the U.S. laughs at the enormous waistline--a 40! He comments that only in America are there enough people who could fill so many of those jeans; I was in Costco two days later, and one of those folks was behind me in line , cart crammed with huge portions of food, loudly complaining because the line wasn't moving fast enough for her. I wanted give her a copy of this tender, sad, revealing true story about people waiting in line, sometimes in the rain, for five days just to catch a train for their once a year vacation, usually to visit children they have left behind so that can earn enough money for the kids to live well and educate themselves and move ahead. Even with the mountain of personal and financial problems the family shares, their essential humanity shines through, and as with families all over the planet, they just want things to be better for their children. This is a penetrating and thoughtful film about a nation that doesn't know how to handle its sudden growth and power, and is about the results of such power that often impact the victims of the system

'Last Train Home' is a particularly sad and wearying example among a number of documentaries about human upheaval and the destruction of traditions and family values in today's China. A hundred and twenty million Chinese workers in far-flung places hurry back home every Chinese New Year, a vast temporary "migration," and the only time in the year divided families are reunited. Using the microcosm approach, the Canadian-Chinese filmmaker Lixan Fan chronicles the vicissitudes of this massive journey and the impact of separations for the rest of the year by latching onto one small family, the Zhangs, who come from a farm in a remote area. The parents of two children, Chen Suqin and her husband Zhang Changhua, left sixteen years ago to earn money to support the kids working in the big industrial city of Guangzhou in the south.

The family was dirt poor, the grandmother tells us. She and her late husband were left with the task of raising Chen's and Changhua's daughter Qin and younger son Yang. Yang is in school, fifth in the class, which his parents don't like. He should be number one. "I don't want to work too hard," he says. What does he care? His parents only come to tell him this once a year, at the time of that vast New Years "migration." Yang, Qin, and their parents aren't often in touch. They don't have cell phones.

In the case of teenage daughter Qin, the resentment is huge. She outspokenly declares that her parents abandoned her for most of her young life and she can't forgive them for this. She feels the country is a "sad place." This leads to the deepest irony of the film because she quits school to go away and work first in a garment factory, later in a cocktail bar in a boom town. This despite the fact that the purpose of her parents going away to work was so she and her brother could rise above peasant or laborer status through better education. It doesn't look like Qin is going to do that.

Yang is in middle school. Those words of his justifying fifth place in class, however, show that he, like Qin, is probably abandoning the traditional values of hard work and sacrifice -- values that fueled China's economic boom, but now are being undermined by it. Because of the boom, evident everywhere, even the poorest of the poor are seduced by glitzy fantasies of easy wealth and giddy fun. And the enormous displacements caused by the boom in themselves make the Chinese family structure grow weaker.

The film seamlessly follows Qin and her parents and documents several of the New Years migrations. The trip begins with days of struggle to get tickets and the last trip teeters on the verge of becoming a humanitarian disaster. Masses of people wait in the station for five days, herded by cops. This is when Chunghua has gone to see Qin and persuade her to come back with them. He and Suqin are hoping Qin will go back to school. Instead, perhaps because of the enormous stresses of the journey, the film descends into Jerry Springer territory upon arrival and in front of Grandma and the camera father and daughter have a huge verbal and physical fight. Qin addresses her father in foul and abusive language and he beats her, and she strikes back. Later Qin goes elsewhere and the film shows her briefly working in a huge noisy cocktail bar, which is crudely contrasted by rapid crosscutting with the parents' numbing sweatshop work and the quietude and beauty of the farmland from whence they all came. The cocktail waitress phase recalls another Canadian documentary about China, Chang Yung's award-winning 'Up the Yangtze,' a film on which Lixin Fan, a Canadian who immigrated from China, worked as associate producer, translator and sound recordist. 'Up the Yangtze' focuses on human upheavals caused by the Three Gorges Dam, as does Jia Zhang-ke's fictional 'Still Life.' Another semi-documentary about social change in China that has earned much praise is Jia's '24 City.'

Nothing can equal the magic of 'Still Life' or Jia Zhang-ke's other films about modern China. The family interchanges in 'Up the Yangtze' were similar to 'Last Train's,' but were more subtle and hopeful. The impression that remains from Lixin Fan's film is the sullen defiance of the children and the weariness in the parents' faces, and the skillful documentation of the horrific crowds cramming into holiday trains. A documentarian sticks with his or her subjects, and Fan does this faithfully, but one may perhaps be forgiven for wishing a more interesting, articulate family had been chosen. Because there is no narration, you would have to read the press kit that goes with the film to know that the Zhangs were prevented by law from taking their children with them; that migrant workers like the Zhangs are cruelly discriminated against; and that a large number of them, perhaps a third, are girls 17-25 years old, like Qin.

A few brief interviews with young men on the migrants' New Years train are glimpses of a broader view. One man says he works at a place stringing tennis rackets for all the major foreign brands, but that China has no tennis racket brand of its own. We are just a country of suppliers, he says, and we get paid the minimum price. Despite its boom economy China is still full of very poor, exploited people: the whole country is like one giant exploited migrant worker .

'Last Train Home' won the Best Feature-Length Documentary award at the 22nd International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam and was nominated for a similar award at Sundance. It was shown at the March-April New Directors/New Films series at Lincoln Center and MoMA in New York.

A modern train glides smoothly over a ravine bridge against a framed backdrop of snow-covered peaks and deep valleys.

It is a breathtakingly scenic surprise that sharply contrasts with the passengers crammed into the train, exhausted, heading home for a day or two after a week's wait at the city train station.

Lixin Fan's film of three consecutive New Year's migrations provides startling insight into modern China and the devastation that recent industrialization has wrecked upon a country once steeped in family-centered culture.

A young girl offers prayers for her grandfather. He has raised her and she doesn't really know much at all about her parents.

They have spent her lifetime in Guangzhou's factories making jeans for the world and sending money back home in hopes their children (they also have a younger son) will receive a strong education and rise above the menial factory work.

It is an aching portrait of modern China that should be seen.

I cannot express better what so many other reviewers have expressed already. Having moved to the United States at a very young age, and having never been able to build a relationship with my parents as they worked 12 hours a day, 7 days a week, I can personally relate to this sad, unfortunate and all too real migrant story.

The sacrifice the parents made to provide a chance for a better future and the complexity of emotions: love, anger, resentment, and disparity all reminded me of my sister and I growing up.

Powerful films can shape people's hearts and minds. This is one of them. It is a fair and true story of any migrant worker in this world and reminds us those of us writing and reading this have luxuries have it better than most in this world. Be great full, be humble.