The staggering success of Ne Zha 2, China’s latest animated blockbuster, is more than a triumph at the box office. It is a vivid testament to the country’s burgeoning cultural confidence and its ability to weave ancient myths into modern narratives that captivate audiences both at home and abroad. With a global gross surpassing 12 billion yuan ($1.52 billion) in its first month — a figure that eclipses even Hollywood’s all-time animated offerings — the film has sparked conversations far beyond entertainment. It reflects a cultural moment in which China is not just consuming stories but authoring them, redefining its place in the global imagination.
This phenomenon is not accidental. The original Ne Zha (2019), which became China’s highest-grossing animated film, laid the groundwork by reimagining a 16th-century Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) tale. Its sequel, however, elevates the craft. Directed by Yang Yu (Jiaozi), the film combines cutting-edge animation technology with a narrative steeped in Taoist philosophy, familial bonds, and themes of rebellion against fate. Critics have lauded its visual splendor — think luminescent dragon scales and ethereal celestial realms — but its true power lies in its storytelling. Unlike Western narratives that often prioritize individualism, Ne Zha 2 grapples with collective identity and destiny, themes deeply rooted in Chinese tradition yet universally resonant.
The film’s success underscores a broader shift. For decades, China’s cultural exports were often reduced to martial-arts epics or historical dramas. Today, its creative industries are embracing innovation while drawing from a rich cultural reservoir. The central government’s strategic investments in arts and technology — evident in initiatives like the 2021-25 five-year plan for film development, which prioritizes animation and digital innovation — have catalyzed this transformation. As a result, Chinese tech giants have produced works that rival Pixar in technical ambition.
Yet Ne Zha 2 is not merely a product of policy. It speaks to a societal hunger for stories that reflect China’s contemporary ethos. Younger audiences, raised in an era of technological prowess and national rejuvenation, see in Ne Zha’s defiance a metaphor for their own aspirations. As one Shanghai-based film critic said, “This generation doesn’t want to mimic Western heroes. They want heroes who look like them, who echo their struggles.”
Internationally, the film’s reception hints at shifting tides in soft power. While Hollywood dominates global pop culture, Ne Zha 2’s anticipated traction in Southeast Asia, where Chinese mythology holds historical resonance, and its likely screenings at festivals like Annecy in France, suggest a growing appetite for non-Western narratives. Streaming platforms like Netflix and Tencent’s WeTV have amplified its reach, although its themes — steeped in Chinese cosmology — still face hurdles in Western markets unfamiliar with the legend.
The film’s legacy may lie in its quiet assertion: that a nation’s stories, when told with authenticity and vision, can transcend borders. For China, this is not just about box office records. It’s about claiming a seat at the table where the world’s narratives are written — and proving it belongs there
Detractors argue that China’s film industry lags in originality, citing derivative plots or censorship as creative constraints. Yet such critiques overlook the nuance of works like Ne Zha 2, which balances commercial appeal with cultural specificity. The film’s director has spoken openly about wanting to “create a Chinese superhero”, not to supplant Spider-Man but to offer an alternative — one rooted in a civilization that has thrived for millennia.
This cultural flowering arrives amid a global reckoning with diversity in media. Just as Parasite and Squid Game heralded South Korea’s creative ascendancy, China’s storytelling renaissance challenges the monoculture of Hollywood. The difference lies in scale: China’s domestic market, with 1.4 billion potential viewers, allows films to thrive without overseas validation. Yet the ambition to resonate globally is unmistakable. As producer Cao An remarked, “We’re not just making movies for China. We’re showing the world that our stories matter.”
The implications extend beyond cinema. Ne Zha 2’s success coincides with China’s push to shape global norms — whether in technology, governance, or culture. While this rise unsettles some, it also invites reflection: What does it mean for a civilization often caricatured in Western media to reclaim its narrative agency? How does a millennials-old culture modernize without erasing its roots?
These questions linger as the credits roll. Ne Zha 2 is not a panacea for cross-cultural understanding, nor is it immune to critique. But its existence — a dazzling, unapologetically Chinese story told with global-grade artistry — marks a milestone. It reminds us that cultural influence is not a zero-sum game. The world has room for many heroes, many myths. And as China’s creative voices grow louder, the global audience grows richer for listening.
In the end, the film’s legacy may lie in its quiet assertion: that a nation’s stories, when told with authenticity and vision, can transcend borders. For China, this is not just about box office records. It’s about claiming a seat at the table where the world’s narratives are written — and proving it belongs there.
The author is the convener at China Retold, a member of the Legislative Council, and a member of the Central Committee of the New People’s Party.
The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.