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DIRECTOR： CAO BAOPING
WRITERS： CAO BAOPING， JIAO HUAJING
Any film that that makes you sympathize with a man that rapes a woman to death has achieved something out of the ordinary， and， odd as it sounds， Cao Baoping’s The Dead End does exactly that—a tight genre thriller that reaches for something far more than the sum of its parts. The film’s bleak， black and white mise en scene grabs viewers’ attention. It shows three panicked men scrambling down a hillside side in the midst of storm， fleeing the remote scene of a quintuple murder and a brutal rape.
The level of their involvement in the crime is unclear， but things certainly don’t look good for them; an omniscient narrator chimes in telling us that these men “must shed their skins” and start anew. Fast-forward seven years and the trio are living in a manner that can only be defined as quietly seeking redemption： Deng Chao plays Xin Xiaofeng， a nervous auxiliary policeman who refuses promotion; his friend， taxi driver Yang Zidao （Guo Tao） keeps his head-down， secretly performing deeds of kindness and atonement， and Chen Bijue （Gao Hu） plays a mentally-challenged man who cares for the three men’s adopted daughter， Tail. The final protagonist， Captain Yi Guchun （Duan Yihong） is a world-weary cop who can’t give up on the case and serves as Xiaofeng’s partner， arguably turning in the film’s strongest performance， of which there are many.
A certain anxiety often hangs in the air when a film is based upon a book， and the screenplay for The Dead End is based on the 2010 novel Sunspots（《太陽黑子》）， by Xu Yigua（须一瓜）， a journalist who spent many years as a crime reporter for the XiamenEvening News. The original novel revolves around a trio of close friends who desperately try to atone for a horrific crime they committed ten years previously by adopting the daughter of one of the victims.
The film sticks closely to the format and from the outset it is clear that Cao is trying to go a bit beyond the conventional and is a director of real talent—his cinematography is sharp， making ample use of shaky， handheld camerawork， giving the film a hard-edged cinéma vérité style. Meticulous attention seems to have been paid to lighting， décor， and costume. The liberal use of jump-cutting accompanied by a pacing that deftly jumps between that of a bum-on-edge-of-seat， speedy， taut thriller and a slower， more intense philosophically brooding film means this slick picture has several different gears to go through. The film manages to hold you for all of its two hours and more—no mean feat in these times of ill-attention. Though a fine film， there are more than a few things that do detract from it： there are a couple of moments of slightly slapstick comedy which feel intensely out of place in what is otherwise a serious engaging murder mystery chasing still grander themes; Guo’s restrained acting is occasionally spoiled by his having an underwritten love interest unnecessarily shoe-horned into the film. Wang Luodan’s （as Yi Guxia） merely adequate performance looks much worse than it is when measured against the superb award-winning male turns around her. And， the reason for the trio’s involvement in the murders is never fully explained， which， of course， weakens our journey with them on their road to redemption as we are never quite sure how much they need to be redeemed in the first place.
A few months before the film’s release， actor Gao Hu was arrested on drug charges and consequently many of his scenes where unnecessarily edited out， thus giving the unholy triptych of Xiaofeng， Zidao， and Bijue an uneven feel; it would have been interesting to see the original edit. A couple of times in the film we have sight of Xiaofeng grasping another man’s hand， barely saving a man from falling a great height from a building. For such a trope to appear just once in a movie feels trite， but twice？ There also a few plot-holes that this reviewer has been unable to redress.
However such gripes do not do too much damage to a film which has far more pluses than minuses. And it deals directly with things in a way that the Chinese film industry， ever wary of censorship， usually cannot handle： clunky on-message moralizing is almost completely avoided; we get （not particularly graphic） scenes of homosexual sex dealt with in relatively straightforward manner; and the film， arguably， challenges the nation’s policy of capital punishment through a bold denouement showing the Chinese authorities administering the death penalty via lethal injection. Cao clearly has no issue challenging taboos， and you are left hoping that he continues to make challenging films rather than going down the path of the commercial mainstream that so many directors walk down once they have had moderate success with early more engaging and artistic content.
The film’s high-points rests in two main areas： genuinely restrained and meaningful performances from the film’s protagonists and an outright refusal to judge its characters whatever their crimes may or may not have involved. In what could have so easily been a tired goodies versus baddies film， with everything wrapped up cleanly， Cao instead achieves something that is much more nuanced， and though the film’s premise is hardly a new one： that man is neither good nor bad but that a degree of both good and evil resides in all of us. The way it goes about exploring this through a subtle examination of the fragile psychology of its characters and the inter-relationships between them is fully realized. Though suspicious of Xiaofeng， guilt constantly simmers within Yi， all boiling to The Dead End crescendo of the film’s title， the scenes between them， while not quite in True Detective territory， are beautifully wrought and we feel Yi’s confusion as he starts to realize that， for whatever Xiaofeng’s sins might be （and the constant suggestion is that they are of the worst possible kind）， he has at the same time deep reserves of complexity， bravery， and loyalty residing within him. It is this constant and probing look into such contradictions that elevate the film beyond its mere status of genre thriller and， instead， almost makes it a Dostoyevskian study in the nature of crime and punishment.
Actor performances are always controlled and rarely overdone， yet the internal tension and anxiety of the characters is fully felt： Guo， Deng， and Duan deserve to share the best actor award at the Shanghai International Film Festival， showing that， with the right direction， Chinese actors can turn in very fine performances indeed.
For too long contemporary mainstream Chinese cinema has done little to add to the oeuvre of modern filmmaking， offering the blandest of scripts， over-simplistic messages， and a reliance on special effects that for all their costs still look cheap and ill-advised—all effectively adding up to a stream of second-rate copies of the very worst kind of Hollywood movies. Cao shows that if allowed to stretch a little （always that if）， Chinese cinema easily has the capacity to make taboo breaking， finely acted， challenging films for a regular audience. No one is going to put The Dead End down as an absolute high point of Chinese cinema， but it more than punches its weight as an original， entertaining， and occasionally even thought provoking genre flick.
Xing Xiaofeng： Hello？
W-i？
喂？
Chen Bijue： Tail fell. She’s not talking. She peed， had a seizure.
W0iba shu`id2o le， b& shu4hu3. H1i xi2obi3n， ch4uj～n.
尾巴摔倒了，不說话。还小便，
抽筋。
Xin： Is she dizzy again？
Sh# b% sh# y7u y$n a？
是不是又晕啊？
Chen： Not dizzy. Seizure. Not talking. Not waking up. The doctor won’t let me talk. You have to come.
B& y$n， ch4uj～n， b& shu4hu3， h2n t` y0 b& x@ng. Y～sh8ng b& g0i w6 shu4. N@men d0i gu7l1i， xi3nz3i ji& d0i gu7l1i.
不晕，抽筋，不说话，喊她也不醒。医生不给我说。你们得过来，现在就得过来。
Xin： Stop yelling. I’m coming over.
N@ bi9 h2n bi9 h2n， w6 m2sh3ng gu7l1i.
你别喊别喊，我马上过来。
Yi Guchun： I’m sorry， Feng. I have to do this.
Du#buq@， Xi2of8ng， w6 b#x$ zh-me zu7.
对不起，小丰，我必须这么做。
Xin： No need to apologize. Right and wrong， we all have them.
M9i sh9nme du#buq@ de. Du# h9 cu7， m0i g- r9n x～nli d4u y6u.
没什么对不起的。对和错，每个人心里都有。
Yi： I will let Xia bring Tail home. I’ll take care of all the surgery. Do you hate me ？
W6 hu# r3ng Xi2oxi3 w2nshang b2 W0iba ji8 hu！l1i. H7umi3n de sh6ush&， w6 hu# `np1i. N@ h-n w6 ma？
我会让小夏晚上把尾巴接回来。后面的手术，我会安排。你恨我吗？
Xin： It’s torture. In fact， we’ve been waiting for today. You wouldn’t understand.
T3i ji`n'1o le. Q！sh！ w6men， w6men d4u z3i， z3i d0ng zh- y# ti`n. Y0x^ n@ b&n9ng l@ji0.
太煎熬了。其实我们，我们都在，在等这一天。也许你不能理解。
WRITERS： CAO BAOPING， JIAO HUAJING
Any film that that makes you sympathize with a man that rapes a woman to death has achieved something out of the ordinary， and， odd as it sounds， Cao Baoping’s The Dead End does exactly that—a tight genre thriller that reaches for something far more than the sum of its parts. The film’s bleak， black and white mise en scene grabs viewers’ attention. It shows three panicked men scrambling down a hillside side in the midst of storm， fleeing the remote scene of a quintuple murder and a brutal rape.
The level of their involvement in the crime is unclear， but things certainly don’t look good for them; an omniscient narrator chimes in telling us that these men “must shed their skins” and start anew. Fast-forward seven years and the trio are living in a manner that can only be defined as quietly seeking redemption： Deng Chao plays Xin Xiaofeng， a nervous auxiliary policeman who refuses promotion; his friend， taxi driver Yang Zidao （Guo Tao） keeps his head-down， secretly performing deeds of kindness and atonement， and Chen Bijue （Gao Hu） plays a mentally-challenged man who cares for the three men’s adopted daughter， Tail. The final protagonist， Captain Yi Guchun （Duan Yihong） is a world-weary cop who can’t give up on the case and serves as Xiaofeng’s partner， arguably turning in the film’s strongest performance， of which there are many.
A certain anxiety often hangs in the air when a film is based upon a book， and the screenplay for The Dead End is based on the 2010 novel Sunspots（《太陽黑子》）， by Xu Yigua（须一瓜）， a journalist who spent many years as a crime reporter for the XiamenEvening News. The original novel revolves around a trio of close friends who desperately try to atone for a horrific crime they committed ten years previously by adopting the daughter of one of the victims.
The film sticks closely to the format and from the outset it is clear that Cao is trying to go a bit beyond the conventional and is a director of real talent—his cinematography is sharp， making ample use of shaky， handheld camerawork， giving the film a hard-edged cinéma vérité style. Meticulous attention seems to have been paid to lighting， décor， and costume. The liberal use of jump-cutting accompanied by a pacing that deftly jumps between that of a bum-on-edge-of-seat， speedy， taut thriller and a slower， more intense philosophically brooding film means this slick picture has several different gears to go through. The film manages to hold you for all of its two hours and more—no mean feat in these times of ill-attention. Though a fine film， there are more than a few things that do detract from it： there are a couple of moments of slightly slapstick comedy which feel intensely out of place in what is otherwise a serious engaging murder mystery chasing still grander themes; Guo’s restrained acting is occasionally spoiled by his having an underwritten love interest unnecessarily shoe-horned into the film. Wang Luodan’s （as Yi Guxia） merely adequate performance looks much worse than it is when measured against the superb award-winning male turns around her. And， the reason for the trio’s involvement in the murders is never fully explained， which， of course， weakens our journey with them on their road to redemption as we are never quite sure how much they need to be redeemed in the first place.
A few months before the film’s release， actor Gao Hu was arrested on drug charges and consequently many of his scenes where unnecessarily edited out， thus giving the unholy triptych of Xiaofeng， Zidao， and Bijue an uneven feel; it would have been interesting to see the original edit. A couple of times in the film we have sight of Xiaofeng grasping another man’s hand， barely saving a man from falling a great height from a building. For such a trope to appear just once in a movie feels trite， but twice？ There also a few plot-holes that this reviewer has been unable to redress.
However such gripes do not do too much damage to a film which has far more pluses than minuses. And it deals directly with things in a way that the Chinese film industry， ever wary of censorship， usually cannot handle： clunky on-message moralizing is almost completely avoided; we get （not particularly graphic） scenes of homosexual sex dealt with in relatively straightforward manner; and the film， arguably， challenges the nation’s policy of capital punishment through a bold denouement showing the Chinese authorities administering the death penalty via lethal injection. Cao clearly has no issue challenging taboos， and you are left hoping that he continues to make challenging films rather than going down the path of the commercial mainstream that so many directors walk down once they have had moderate success with early more engaging and artistic content.
The film’s high-points rests in two main areas： genuinely restrained and meaningful performances from the film’s protagonists and an outright refusal to judge its characters whatever their crimes may or may not have involved. In what could have so easily been a tired goodies versus baddies film， with everything wrapped up cleanly， Cao instead achieves something that is much more nuanced， and though the film’s premise is hardly a new one： that man is neither good nor bad but that a degree of both good and evil resides in all of us. The way it goes about exploring this through a subtle examination of the fragile psychology of its characters and the inter-relationships between them is fully realized. Though suspicious of Xiaofeng， guilt constantly simmers within Yi， all boiling to The Dead End crescendo of the film’s title， the scenes between them， while not quite in True Detective territory， are beautifully wrought and we feel Yi’s confusion as he starts to realize that， for whatever Xiaofeng’s sins might be （and the constant suggestion is that they are of the worst possible kind）， he has at the same time deep reserves of complexity， bravery， and loyalty residing within him. It is this constant and probing look into such contradictions that elevate the film beyond its mere status of genre thriller and， instead， almost makes it a Dostoyevskian study in the nature of crime and punishment.
Actor performances are always controlled and rarely overdone， yet the internal tension and anxiety of the characters is fully felt： Guo， Deng， and Duan deserve to share the best actor award at the Shanghai International Film Festival， showing that， with the right direction， Chinese actors can turn in very fine performances indeed.
For too long contemporary mainstream Chinese cinema has done little to add to the oeuvre of modern filmmaking， offering the blandest of scripts， over-simplistic messages， and a reliance on special effects that for all their costs still look cheap and ill-advised—all effectively adding up to a stream of second-rate copies of the very worst kind of Hollywood movies. Cao shows that if allowed to stretch a little （always that if）， Chinese cinema easily has the capacity to make taboo breaking， finely acted， challenging films for a regular audience. No one is going to put The Dead End down as an absolute high point of Chinese cinema， but it more than punches its weight as an original， entertaining， and occasionally even thought provoking genre flick.
Xing Xiaofeng： Hello？
W-i？
喂？
Chen Bijue： Tail fell. She’s not talking. She peed， had a seizure.
W0iba shu`id2o le， b& shu4hu3. H1i xi2obi3n， ch4uj～n.
尾巴摔倒了，不說话。还小便，
抽筋。
Xin： Is she dizzy again？
Sh# b% sh# y7u y$n a？
是不是又晕啊？
Chen： Not dizzy. Seizure. Not talking. Not waking up. The doctor won’t let me talk. You have to come.
B& y$n， ch4uj～n， b& shu4hu3， h2n t` y0 b& x@ng. Y～sh8ng b& g0i w6 shu4. N@men d0i gu7l1i， xi3nz3i ji& d0i gu7l1i.
不晕，抽筋，不说话，喊她也不醒。医生不给我说。你们得过来，现在就得过来。
Xin： Stop yelling. I’m coming over.
N@ bi9 h2n bi9 h2n， w6 m2sh3ng gu7l1i.
你别喊别喊，我马上过来。
Yi Guchun： I’m sorry， Feng. I have to do this.
Du#buq@， Xi2of8ng， w6 b#x$ zh-me zu7.
对不起，小丰，我必须这么做。
Xin： No need to apologize. Right and wrong， we all have them.
M9i sh9nme du#buq@ de. Du# h9 cu7， m0i g- r9n x～nli d4u y6u.
没什么对不起的。对和错，每个人心里都有。
Yi： I will let Xia bring Tail home. I’ll take care of all the surgery. Do you hate me ？
W6 hu# r3ng Xi2oxi3 w2nshang b2 W0iba ji8 hu！l1i. H7umi3n de sh6ush&， w6 hu# `np1i. N@ h-n w6 ma？
我会让小夏晚上把尾巴接回来。后面的手术，我会安排。你恨我吗？
Xin： It’s torture. In fact， we’ve been waiting for today. You wouldn’t understand.
T3i ji`n'1o le. Q！sh！ w6men， w6men d4u z3i， z3i d0ng zh- y# ti`n. Y0x^ n@ b&n9ng l@ji0.
太煎熬了。其实我们，我们都在，在等这一天。也许你不能理解。