There's a certain quiet resonance in the phrase "to die in the country." It conjures images of a simpler existence, perhaps a peaceful fading away amidst familiar landscapes. But what if that quiet is a prelude to something far more complex, a confrontation with the very fabric of memory and reality?
This is the territory explored in Shuji Terayama's 1974 film, "Pastoral: To Die in the Country" (Den-en ni Shisu). It's not a straightforward narrative, mind you. Think of it as a dreamscape, a deeply personal excavation of a filmmaker's own past as he attempts to capture it on screen. The story, as it unfolds, is about a director trying to make an autobiographical film. He recalls his childhood in a remote mountain village, a solitary existence with his mother after his father's early death. He even conjures his father's ghost through rituals, a poignant, if unconventional, way to connect with the past. Then there's the alluring young woman next door, a figure of fascination for the boy.
The arrival of a traveling circus injects a spark of the outside world, a promise of adventure that leads the boy and the young woman to flee their secluded life. But here's where the film takes a turn, much like the director's own creative process. He hits a wall. He encounters his younger self, and through this confrontation with his childhood, he begins to see the artifice, the untruths woven into his cinematic retelling. It's a journey to uncover the real past, and with it, the buried, often brutal, memories that have been deliberately forgotten.
It's a film that asks us to consider how we construct our own narratives, how memory can be both a sanctuary and a trap. The highly acclaimed 8.8 rating on Douban, with a significant majority of viewers giving it five stars, speaks to its profound impact. It's lauded as being better than 89% of drama films and 94% of fantasy films, a testament to its unique blend of genres and its ability to resonate deeply.
On a vastly different note, but touching on the profound struggle for life, we see the incredible story of Cui Zhiqiang. At 65, facing the devastating aftermath of COVID-19, he became the world's first discharged lung transplant patient. His journey, spanning 166 days of intensive treatment in Wuhan, is a testament to human resilience and the extraordinary advancements in medical science. The phrase "65, too young to die" echoed by his daughter and his attending physician, Dr. Zhou Chenliang, encapsulates the fierce determination to fight for every breath. The commitment from the Chinese government, ensuring that all patients receive treatment regardless of cost, and the mobilization of top medical experts for his double-lung transplant, underscore a national dedication to preserving life. Cui's own decisive blink, signaling his will to live, and his daughter's relief that his survival chances were perceived as 100%, highlight the immeasurable value placed on each individual life.
Both "Pastoral: To Die in the Country" and Cui Zhiqiang's story, though worlds apart in their subject matter, share a common thread: the profound human drive to understand, to survive, and to find meaning, even when confronted with the ultimate finality or the brink of it. They remind us that the country, whether a landscape of memory or a place of recovery, holds within it the echoes of our deepest struggles and our most enduring hopes.
