Poster of documentary Twenty Two

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The 22 wrinkled faces in the video look no different from the old people around us. The documentary is filled with ordinary scenes of daily life, and does not mention historical events. The more time Guo spent with these women, the harder he found it to force them to relive their suffering with questions about the past. “If she were my grandma, how could I ask about how she was raped? Above all, we must respect her,” the post-80s director said.

These survivors live a peaceful life without shame, and they hardly cry. In the documentary, survivor Li Meijin enjoys the shade with other seniors under a banyan. Guo couldn’t recognize Li through his camera. “All of them look peaceful and aged,” he said.

The documentary also includes Korean Mao Yinmei, who has been in China for more than 70 years. Time has seemingly diluted everything so that no traces of her national enmity and personal hatred can be found. When shooting the documentary, Mao, who is in her 90s only remembered some Korean words. She used to fetch a little chair and sit against wall, putting herself into a trance all day. Beside her, Mao’s great-grandsons would play video games.

When filming had nearly came to an end, Guo found the video materials were mostly scenes of daily life punctuated with sighs and laughs of the old people. He was anxious, asking himself, “Is it a documentary about comfort women?” Later, he convinced himself to delete all the scenes of historical controversies and conflicts because being bored is the status quo of the survivors.

Pain brought by history was revealed in slow motion. Lin Ailan, who was a member of a Red Detachment of Women, stayed calm when talking about the Japanese but she cried when the topic shifted to her relatives. She choked with sobs, saying that her mother was thrown into a river after being caught and tied up by the Japanese. Before long, Lin was captured and sent to a comfort station at the age of about 20.

As a qualified director, Guo should be happy that he got the story he wanted. However, he felt miserable as if the horrors suffered by the “comfort women” had happened to his own family members. But he found that comfort women survivors didn’t frequently mention the past and chose instead to continue their life by ignoring it.

The documentary crew met a Japanese student named Mai Yoneda at Hainan Normal University in Hainan Province. Moved by the stories of “comfort women,” Yoneda often brought them medicine and nutrition. Surprisingly, a survivor laughed when she showed him a picture of Japanese soldier, saying that “His mustache is gone. Japanese are getting old too.” Yoneda burst into tears, “Their mental trauma is huge, but they are kind to all people. If I had such an experience, I would bear the hatred throughout my life, and maybe I would kill myself.”

Guo understands their choices. Wei Shaolan was caught by Japanese in 1944 and sent to a comfort station in Maling Town, in Guangxi Province. She escaped three months later when Japanese soldiers were taking a nap, but the nightmare lingered. She intended to kill herself but was rescued by others. Wei found out she was pregnant.

Luo Shanxue, Wei’s son by a Japanese father, began to accept his fate. He never attended school or married, and at the age of 36, he decided to herd cattle for his whole life. Since his childhood, people have pointed fingers at him and called him “Japanese.” The word has “defined me and ruined my life,” Luo said.

Luo is more than 70 years old now. When his story in Thirty-Two was projected on a website, there were masses of bullet screens saying “you are Chinese.” Bullet screen, or danmu in Chinese, allows viewers to type comments that zoom across the screen like bullets. Guo was moved, knowing that these old women only can continue their life by burying the bitterness deep in their heart. “Unlike them, it is us who cannot escape the history of that time,” Guo said.

Hoping that Twenty-Two can be shown in more theaters and gain a wider audience, Guo went to a variety of film festivals for a whole year. He always asked the organizer to change his return flight destination to the next city he was about to visit because he was so poor. The documentary was nominated the best documentary at the 2015 Busan Film Festival and 2016 Moscow Film Festival.

Renowned Russian director Nikita Mikhalkov’s commented on Twenty-Two, saying “It is a movie of warmth.” Also, Beijing College Student Film Festival granted it the Award of Special Recommendation. However, there was still a long way to go before it can be released in cinemas.

Guo says he wants to contribute more. A Japanese reporter said to him after watching the documentary with his family “Thank you for producing it without simply accusing Japan. It allows us to contemplate the experience of these survivors.” Guo hopes Twenty-Two will be a movie that makes no viewer feel discomfort. “How can you expect audiences to watch a movie filled with blame, accusation and lecture?” Guo said. He said that the survival of comfort women has proven everything. They are victims and our compatriots.

Guo said that all the box office will be donated to research institutes on Chinese “comfort women.” He has no intent to earn any money from the movie. Last year, Guo initiated crowdfunding to finance publicity with the help of the Memorial Hall of the Victims of the Nanjing Massacre by Japanese Invaders. More than 31,000 internet users donated more than 1 million yuan in half a year and their names appear in the trailer. The movie has been shown in some Chinese cinemas and received positive feedback.

Guo adds the names of former  “comfort women” to the titles when each of them passes away. However, they pass away too fast. Their number fell to 22 three years earlier and it currently stands at eight.

 

The article is abridged and translated from China Youth Daily.