Shanghai Daughter
A Ming’s father was sent from Shanghai to work at the state-owned Dongfeng Farm in Xishuangbanna, Yunnan, as one of the educated urban youth in the late 1960s. After his death, A Ming travels alone to the rubber plantations of Xishuangbanna to fulfil a promise he made but never had the chance to keep, searching for a person from his past whose whereabouts are unknown.
As the journey unfolds, fragmented personal memories, oral accounts from the second generation of sent-down youth, ancient local legends, and traces of history buried within the rubber plantations begin to intersect. For 13 years, the artist Ag (Shen Zhongmin) travelled frequently between Shanghai and Yunnan, conducting field research…
In August 2024, faced with a shortage of funding for the shoot, Ag launched a crowdfunding campaign through a deeply sincere post on her own WeChat public account. Within a short period of time, the project received support from hundreds of ordinary people from all walks of life. It also resonated with many people born in the 1970s and 1980s, evoking memories of their parents’ experiences of being sent to support development in the border regions and migrating to state farms…
This is a distinctive moving-image work in which the artist is both a participant in the story and a director engaged in self-reflection.
I met Ag at the Zampu Museum and have watched Shanghai Daughter several times. I have never been able to forget the scene in the dragon fruit fields — almost apocalyptic: the protagonist approaches from a distance, everything immersed in red light…
And the moment when a rubber tapper draws a knife upwards, scraping away the bark.
And the details of the demolition of a house.
And the scene in which she has clothes made to order.
And every meal, every conversation.
And the sudden appearance of scenes that seem unrelated to the narrative.
And the protagonist’s arrival, approaching from far away.
I cannot see the memories — the past contained within the conversations, the images in which past and present intertwine throughout the film. Yet I can feel, with absolute clarity, that sense of reluctance to let go, of words left unsaid.
"Shanghai Daughter" always makes me think of Abbas Kiarostami’s "24 Frames" (2017). There is almost no narrative, yet whenever each image appears, it is filled with rich color and an unspoken form of expression.
Ag’s journey in search of her father’s past slowly unfolds through the film. A foreign land, another land, and one’s homeland — each is, in itself, a journey worth discovering slowly.
"Shanghai Daughter" is artist and filmmaker Ag’s first feature film, and a work that has received the love and help of many people.
Li Zhenhua
Written in Tuscany, Italy
Saturday, 26 September 2026