Lighthouse

From the darkness, the camera captures its unwitting prey: the armies of Chinese laborers who work by night and barely ever see the light of day. They do not know that the camera is rolling, filming fragments of their lives -- fragments that the viewer will invent stories around all by himself. These men play cards during their break or smoke cigarettes outside, while women work away on endless assembly lines, attend a nocturnal drawing lesson, or a massive dance rehearsal. Just as the outside world is invisible to them because they sleep during the day, they are also invisible to it. As soon as they come outside, director Chi Jang Yin depicts them as ghosts. Many people hold multiple jobs out of dire necessity, while others left their children behind in the country and raise them by phone. And what does this nocturnal existence mean for their social lives? Despite the anonymity and lifelessness of the gloomy factory buildings, they become a point of reference for the lives of these people. They define them, even if the people would prefer that not to happen. captures reality without comment and leaves the questions and answers to us.