Low-cost works outshine those of big-name directors as Chinese audiences choose authenticity over hollow spectacle

The recent phenomenon that Chinese moviegoers have been sidelining big-budget productions by celebrated directors in favor of low-budget films by amateurs may indicate epochal tendencies. Dear You, produced on a budget of 14 million yuan ($2.06 million), has already grossed over 1.6 billion yuan at the box office — and its popularity is still growing. The short drama series Enemy has achieved over 800 million views on China's TikTok platform Douyin without the support of A-list celebrities or overwhelming marketing.

At the other end of the spectrum, some big-budget productions by renowned directors have fared poorly in recent years. Being Toward Death flopped at the box office, Bureau 749 scored only 3.2 on the professional review platform Douban in contrast to 9.2 recorded at present by Dear You, and Dongji Rescue almost collapsed under public backlash over accusations of historical nihilism.

This is no coincidence. On the surface, it seems like an imbalance between budget and returns; at a deeper level, it reflects a structural misalignment in the logic of content production.

The core lies in the difference between the "othering narratives" told from a Western-prone perspective and the "cultural self-awareness" rooted in the Chinese spirit that tells emotional stories from a traditional perspective.

Many renowned directors have been deeply influenced by Western popular culture from the beginning of their careers. Their imitation of Hollywood films has led to a reliance on "Western-centrism" in narrative style, aesthetics and values. Their obsession with blending Eastern and Western cultures has ultimately rendered their films culturally out of place in China.

On the other hand, works that have embraced the spiritual essence of Chinese culture have done exceedingly well. The rise of Dear You is the most vivid illustration. By using qiaopi — the overseas Chinese remittance letters recognized as a UNESCO Memory of the World heritage — as its spiritual anchor, the film brings the sense of family and country down from grand narratives to everyday emotions, allowing audiences to find a spiritual homeland in simple values such as loyalty and righteousness. When filmmakers no longer rely on Western narrative standards, they often find a market that appreciates the enduring spiritual themes of Chinese culture.

There is a stark contrast between the sincere content of these low-budget works and the assembly-line production of the industrial machine. The strength of low-cost works lies in their story-first, emotion-driven approach, which contrasts sharply with the big-budget production model of many renowned directors.

Lan Hongchun, director of Dear You, spent three years interviewing over 120 elderly Chaoshan-descended overseas Chinese in Southeast Asia, all over 80 years old. Ninety percent of the film's plot is based on real stories. The film has no clear heroes or villains, no dramatic conflicts or climactic twists. Through understated cinematography and a consistent emotional tone, it tells a story of nostalgia and family bonds, elevating it to a sense of shared community — a sentiment that embodies the devotion to loyalty, compassion and mutual support of people of Chinese origin.

The same is true of Enemy. The female protagonist, driven by a profound sense of loyalty to her native land, chooses to perish together with the invaders. When she changes the opera line from "the two of us" to "we, husband and wife", a fleeting gleam in her eyes feels heavier than any love confession ever could.

Meanwhile, high-budget productions spend fortunes on sweeping visual effects and A-list ensembles, yet their core narratives are perfunctorily cliched and rejected by viewers.

Ultimately, there is an irreconcilable contrast between grassroots expressions that connect emotionally and detached narratives from an elite perspective. Low-cost works excel at capturing the emotional pain points of ordinary people, striking a chord with audiences. In contrast, some films by renowned directors display an elite arrogance, underestimating or dismissing the aesthetic judgment of viewers.

Today's young audiences are increasingly avoiding cinemas. Industry research shows that the share of viewers under the age of 24 dropped sharply from 38 percent in 2019 to 15 percent in 2025. The root cause is the glut of hollow plots, heavy-handed preachiness, and stiff acting by glamorous stars, all of which alienate young audiences seeking genuine emotional depth.

A renowned director once declared during a road show that 15 million tickets are the survival line for Chinese cinema, urging audiences to support his latest film. Meanwhile, Dear You, with no star power, started with a mere 1.6 percent screening rate on its opening day but became one of the highest-rated domestic dramas of the decade through word-of-mouth recommendations. Enemy sparked in-depth discussions online with its exquisitely crafted, nuanced performances. Netizens eagerly captured and shared screenshots, created fan edits, and wrote lengthy analytical posts. Its popularity grew entirely through organic word-of-mouth.

While renowned directors lament the slump in the film industry, amateur teams with extremely low budgets have reaped market returns hundreds of times larger. Clearly, the market has not abandoned good films. It has only turned its back on works that are overly Westernized and mechanically imitative.

The true vitality of cinema lies not in budget size but in whether creators have the courage to step away from a cultural "othering" perspective, root themselves in Chinese culture and genuinely respect the emotional needs of the audience. That might help renowned directors emerge from their winter.

The author is a research fellow at the Office of Academic Research at Xiamen University of Technology.

The author contributed this article to China Watch, a think tank powered by China Daily. The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.

Contact the editor at editor@chinawatch.cn.