Review of "Escape from the 21st Century"
Review of “Escape from the 21st Century”
Spoiler warning (I feel the need to state this to avoid upsetting friends who haven’t seen it yet)
I laughed a lot at the beginning, especially during the “Busy Big Sister” segment, but the further I got, the more I felt the tragic core of the film. Young people are always filled with boundless hope for the future, fantasizing that growing up will bring countless unexpected joys: growing taller, living independently, supporting themselves, having a career, finding a loved one and seriously building a life together, and embarking on countless wonderful adventures that were impossible in youth due to lack of money or time.
So at first, after entering their 38-year-old bodies, the three teenagers were thrilled, believing their dreams had come true. But within seconds, things started to feel wrong: it turns out the future isn’t necessarily as wonderful as imagined in youth. Endless money comes with blood, sweat, and danger. The hard-earned results of a near-death experience driven by a sense of justice are claimed by a superior. A complete physical transformation and living with the person they admired in their youth, only to be told they are actually unhappy.
What saddened me most was that 18-year-old Chengyong actually started to play the role of his 38-year-old self, beginning to do the “work” that was originally dirty and burdensome to him. That’s just too cruel for a teenager. For us in reality, if there is a gradual process of disillusionment with our future hopes over time, it at least accumulates day by day, the result of being slowly pushed forward by the passage of time. It’s not like suddenly snatching away a young person’s dreams and forcing them to accept a dark reality.
Fortunately, they could still return to 1999, fight in the classroom, gather at the boss’s house to brainstorm solutions, and not have to face the helplessness of being 38 every moment.
This resonates deeply with me. During my final semester of senior year, when I interned in another city, I could still return to my familiar campus on statutory holidays or when important events occurred. I consciously cherished my last moments of campus life, treasuring the final times with my roommates, friends, and the campus itself. In those moments, I strengthened my resolve, slowly and properly saying goodbye. Only then could I gradually adapt to this role change, accepting that I live in an elaborate cage I voluntarily entered, accepting that I no longer have the time or mindset to spend an entire week immersed in, say, The Witcher 3, and to live independently in another city.
I now think the phrase “existence precedes essence” means this: by opening one’s heart to reality, experiencing various things wholeheartedly, and allowing oneself to be shaped by them, one encounters aspects—some or all—that don’t go as desired (perhaps exceeding expectations, perhaps falling short; I think there are both good and bad sides). That is the real world’s impact on the human spirit, challenging one’s symbolic system, generating desire and love, and finally settling within one’s heart, becoming their essence. The journey from 18 to 38 is perhaps the process of spending time to exist, to form an essence, while constantly pruning the dreams of youth, yet growing, living, and becoming enriched.
But perhaps because I’m exactly halfway between 18 and 38, I feel both clear and confused. The film gently shatters the distorted future with force and exercise. We who live in reality cannot force ourselves to drink a bottle of toxins to commit to the achievable endeavor of physical exercise. Yet, we haven’t completely lost everything we cherished in our youth, allowing us, along with the film, to open our shells and immerse ourselves in the warmth of everything Liu Lianzhi likes and represents.