contemporary China

Jessica Kingdon’s brilliant and sometimes shocking assemblage of images, presented without mindboggling voice over narration or overtly emotive musical embellishment, serves as a sort of guided meditation, one that gives the viewer time and space to reflect on what is currently being called the ‘Chinese dream,’ and how that realm of aspiration compares in opportunities. goals and accoutrements to the older and better established notion of the ‘American dream.’

The observational structure of Chinese-American documentarian Jessica Kingdon’s Ascension, about the “Chinese Dream”, is truly immersive, and dredges up lots of questions we don’t think about nearly enough.

Early on, the documentary Ascension points its lens at a sign on that refers to the Chinese dream as opposed to an American one when it comes to capitalistic enterprises. Part Konyaaisqati, part Ron Popeil infomercial, Jessica Kingdon’s debut feature eschews any narration while allowing viewers to immerse themselves in an amusing, sometimes upsetting and often fascinating look at what this Asian powerhouse’s idea of commerce in the 21st century.

In an extraordinary sequence in the verite documentary Ascension, factory workers in China assemble adult female sex dolls that appear to be made of silicone. As the shimmering mannequins are laid out on metal tables like cadavers, their legs upended, the mostly young women labor over them, carefully painting their nipples.

Jessica Kingdon’s stunning documentary has no narrator to explain what you are seeing but may not really need one. It opens and closes with quotes from a 1912 poem, Ascension, from the filmmaker’s great-grandfather that serves as a sort of warning that what you might find when you, the warrior, finally reach the top of the rampart might be more devastation.