In a parallel world, humans have found the road to eternal life, that is, to no longer dream.
A monumental love letter to cinema, Resurrection sees Bi Gan weave a poetic web of reverie across a century of history.
Written by Xiaoyi Wang
In this world without dreams, a monster named Fantasmer (Jackson Yee) is lost in fascination with the remaining fragments of reverie. A woman (Shu Qi), gifted with the power to see into his visions, infiltrates his mind and grants him one final dream—before putting him to rest.
The story unfolds in six chapters, corresponding to the five senses—sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch—and the mind. With each act, we traverse different genres of the 20th century: from the silent era to noir espionage in the Republic of China, to a metaphysical mind game steeped in Buddhism. The narrative then shifts into a father-daughter tale of trickery and memory, culminating in the final night before the 21st century. Each chapter possesses its own distinct style and influences. You’ll find homages to visionaries from Méliès and Lumière to Wiene as you descend into this fever dream.
Seven years after Long Day’s Journey into Night, Bi Gan returns to Cannes with a last-minute entry of an even more ambitious magnum opus. While his previous film premiered in the Un Certain Regard section in 2018, Resurrection was selected for the main Competition this year. The jury, led by Juliette Binoche, who called the film “poetry,” saying it “invited you to dream” and “swept you elsewhere,”—awarded it the Jury Special Prize.
As always, Bi Gan titled the film differently in Chinese; a direct translation would be “Savage Era(s).” The title encapsulates the wildness of these dreamscapes. It invites you to shed your civilized shell and embrace the chaos of reverie. This work of art is his response to the world as it stands. He revealed that the film underwent a dramatic shift in intention in 2020, influenced by global events and his readings of Kant. What began as a murder mystery evolved into a meditation on human destiny.
If you know Bi Gan, you know he is a dreamweaver; for him, cinema and dreaming are two sides of the same coin. His literary sensibility gives the film a poet’s grace. He places us at the intersection of Eastern and Western philosophies and aesthetics. Once again, he employs his signature oner, spanning over thirty minutes, or an entire night. This transcendent technique pulls us only deeper into the dream and makes us wary of every movement. There is a tension and danger that only exists in a long take. It also makes you aware of how intentional everything is. This mélange of cinematic poetry is how he stretches your emotional canvas far beyond reality.
Bi Gan’s lyrical writing and versatile characters are embodied by a spectacular performance by Jackson Yee, who shapeshifts through various identities across chapters. Shu Qi plays one of the “Big Others,” dressed in a green silky dress—a visual echo of Bi Gan’s previous feature, where the female lead also served as mythical stewards of dreams. Resurrection features masterful cinematography that adapts effortlessly to each genre it explores. His use of mirrors and reflections remains a recurring gateway, drawing us to question what is real. From Western classical pieces to nostalgic Chinese karaoke, the music is more than an accompaniment—it has a plot of its own. The set design by Liu Qiang and Tu Nan’ is exquisite throughout, transforming a dream into reality. One moment, we’re on a surreal German Expressionist carousel; the next, in a Buddhist temple in 1950s China, moments later, into a neon city love affair fumed with Wong Kar-wai’s unspoken desire.
Another sub-theme running through the film is obsessive love—an insatiable desire that demands constant fulfillment. Rather than being expressed solely through characters, this longing is often manifested through objects. Bi Gan doesn't just narrate through the five senses; he imbues everyday items—rose petals, teeth, poker cards, mirrors—with a haunting emotional weight. Each one holds its own story, for better or worse. Perhaps, in the end, this same obsessive love reflects our own unquenchable need for cinema, for its stories that possess us.
It may be difficult for viewers to juggle all the elements and their hidden connections, but once you stop fighting the turmoil, you may finally free-fall into this dream. Follow the plot like a stream of consciousness. When the film ends, it feels like waking up after a night of dreams—its phantasmagoric fragments clinging to your thoughts, steeped in poetic melancholy. Throughout the film, you can't help but be touched by Bi Gan’s sincere love for the cinema in every frame. Only someone who deeply loves the art form dares to play maestro and challenge its limits in every way.
If I may, please, give this film the patience and attention it deserves. Let it carry you into a state of vivid dreaming. Let go of reality and its laws of physics. Let go of order and logic. Let go of the prejudices that bind you. Enter this world with naivety and curiosity, and you will come face-to-face with a love so grand, it may drive you mad. Surrender to its spell, carved in poetry. Escape with Bi Gan—just for a few hours—into a world that is fearless and free. Don’t merely watch this film. Live—live through every frame, because this may be your only chance. And above all, dream—dream as if you are the sole silhouette left before the silver screen. Alone in this world, for a few fleeting moments, you are eternal.
Bi Gan and his webs of cinematic poetry: if you are lucky enough to have lived through this film, know that it will linger through the sleepless nights, wild with stars.
Resurrection premiered in Competition at the 2025 Festival de Cannes. Janus Films has acquired all North American rights, with dates yet to be announced.
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