“Forty-two,” said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm.”
― Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Of all the questions humanity has ever asked it, of all the philosophies and faiths, there’s been a guiding question behind it all: what’s the meaning of life? It’s a large question and the answer may shift or change based entirely on a person’s mood, education, application of practical knowledge, or general perspective. Author Douglas Adams gave readers his interpretation of an answer by providing “42,” a seemingly sky-picked number, to serve as the answer to an incalculable equation. Amusingly, 42 is also ASCII code for the asterisk (*), which, generally speaking, roughly translates the line of dialogue into “whatever you want.” If life means whatever you want it to mean, then life only takes on the meaning you give it. This brings us to first-time filmmaker Shen Jie’s The Umbrella Fairy (伞少女), written by Li Youcong and Liu Min and having its international premiere during Fantasia International Film Festival 2024. Executed like a road trip dramedy, Shen’s The Umbrella Fairy translates a perception of objects as extensions of the human experience into a bittersweet lesson on taking control of one’s life and defining your own purpose.
A scene from THE UMBRELLA FAIRY. Photo courtesy of Fortissimo Films/Fantasia International Film Festival.
In the aftermath of a war, twin objects the Imperial Umbrella and the Black Jade Sword are given over to the Hall of Relics for preservation. Residing within them are fairies Qingdai (voiced by Nie Xiying) and Wanggui (voiced by Liu Xiaoyu), each with different reactions to being placed within the Hall. When Wanggui (of the Black Jade Sword) manages to break out, the apprentice to the Master of the Hall, a young man named Mo Yang (voiced by Gu Jiangshan) who can see and converse with fairies, agrees to take Qingdai (of the Imperial Umbrella) to retrieve Wanggui. What they think should be an easy quest quickly turns into an eye-opening and soul-searching journey for all involved.
A scene from THE UMBRELLA FAIRY. Photo courtesy of Fortissimo Films/Fantasia International Film Festival.
Before tackling the director’s chair for The Umbrella Fairy, Shen was the head animator for projects Crystal Sky of Yesterday (2018) and Mr. Miao (2020), and the experience shows. Each frame is beautiful to behold, either evoking Chinese water painting or a modern animation style (sometimes all at once as they overlap), demonstrating intentionality in the framing of the characters and the locations they inhabit. The period the story takes place in isn’t exact, merely that it’s post-war and that the current imperial leadership is no-more. In a way, by not locking down the time period, there’s both a timelessness and an exactness that courses through the film which dovetail nicely into its themes. Based on dress, architecture, and more, this is not a modern film; rather, it’s far more of a classical wuxia (武俠), which first began in the Ming dynasty (1368-1644) before undergoing shifts in approach beyond merely tales of martial arts and chivalry (the words for “martial” (武) and “chivalrous” (俠) making up the traditional spelling of the term) and into stories of justice. This has, of course, shifted further in the modern age, but the general rules are the same: martial arts and heroism. In Shen’s story, this is not only evoked through the visual elements, but from the narrative ones which seek to investigate and uphold the ideals of chivalry. Keeping in mind that the term “chivalry” refers to root behaviors in honor, kindness, courage, and more, the characters of The Umbrella Fairy are forced to confront the ways in which rigidly adhering to such guidelines may, in fact, do more harm than good.
A scene from THE UMBRELLA FAIRY. Photo courtesy of Fortissimo Films.
Here enters the smart move by co-writers Li Youcong and Liu Min: The Umbrella Fairy is a quintessential road film. In order for Qingdai to return Wanggui to the Hall, she must leave the place her master (the original owner) placed her. Doing so is in direct accordance with her master’s wish (that Qingdai protect the Blade Jade Sword), but it requires the breaking of other rules, like Mo Yang’s responsibilities as apprentice and current overseer of the Hall of Relics while his master is away. This kicks off a series of questions regarding appropriateness of breaking rules and whether the reason matters more than upholding guiding principles. It goes even further into exploring agency as the duo meet others who are in need and are uplifted by their specific skills — Mo Yang’s ability to mend objects and Qingdai’s gentleness. Each interaction explores a different element of the ripple caused by war, whether it’s survivor’s guilt, being orphaned, or general disquiet, anchoring the film in a specific pain, even if that pain is not precisely identified. By journeying out into the world, the moral implications of what it means to be chivalrous are challenged at near every chance, prompting our protagonist (Qingdai) to be pushed beyond adherence to directives and to seek out her own identity.
A scene from THE UMBRELLA FAIRY. Photo courtesy of Fortissimo Films/Fantasia International Film Festival.
This is the element that is most modern without the classic trappings, the exploration of agency. Shen’s film is certainly not the first to undergo such a narrative journey, yet it still feels unique by virtue of the world he’s created. If fairies are spiritual manifestations of objects and those objects have an owner, what becomes of those objects in the absence of their owner? Do they continue on? Do they welcome a new owner or spite them? By enchanting the objects, giving them the same metaphysical correlation given to flora and fauna, the audience reconsiders how they themselves might treat the things in their care whether as a first-generation owner or the latest in a long lineage. But, in terms of the characters, it becomes about maintaining who they are with respect to their object and pushing against the boundaries and limitations placed upon them by that connection. In light of Wanggui’s reason for leaving, is she the bad one for leaving? In light of Qingdai’s lessons, would she be wrong for never returning? There’s far more than just this coursing through The Umbrella Fairy, allowing space for an appropriately bittersweet opposition that properly holds a mirror up to Qingdai’s burgeoning perception shift.
A scene from THE UMBRELLA FAIRY. Photo courtesy of Fortissimo Films/Fantasia International Film Festival.
Fascinating as the film is both narratively and visually, there are a great deal of questions that the film doesn’t take time to answer, much of them involving the operational system guiding the fairies. Some are adult human-sized, some are smaller than a toddler, and some possess abilities that the others do not. This could be pulling from a specific story or cultural element, but it’s a little unclear beyond the context provided. One can infer something regarding size, perhaps as physical manifestation of social class (Qingdai and Wanggui being from Royal objects, for instance, may explain their human-sized stature). This combined with the mostly as-expected path of the narrative until the final third of the film lends to a sense that while beautiful to behold and intriguing in concept, it’s sometimes better to let the film wash over you than to consider it past a certain point. That said, the notion of purpose runs profoundly through the film and the way that it tackles the notion of self-governance is universally powerful. That the film is produced using classical styles and ideas while broaching such modern concepts in such a particularly accessible way is not easy and leads to an adventure worth taking.
Screened during Fantasia International Film Festival 2024.
For more information, head to the official Fantasia International Film Festival 2024 The Umbrella Fairy webpage.
Final Score: 3.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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