A Chinese film so bad it’s gone viral. That’s how “Niu Lai” defied Beijing’s predictions

Niu Lai, “Il bue sta arrivando” o “Il bue sta arrivando”, has almost every flaw a ‘bad film’ should have, writes a user on the Chinese social media platform Weibo; probably not even artificial intelligence could meet the requirement to produce such a mediocre animation. The plot is so chaotic as to seem incomprehensible; even the subtitles contain typos – how on earth did it get past the censors?

Having premiered in 245 Chinese cinemas on 5 August, the animated film – which tells the story of the dream-like adventures of a calf protected by its mother – was seen by just 200 people in its first ten days of release, grossing just over 7,000 yuan, not even 1,000 euros. It was such a resounding failure that by 14 August the number of cinemas showing it had fallen to just four nationwide; the film was dubbed ‘the worst cartoon in Chinese history’, and it was precisely this dubious distinction that boosted its popularity, irreversibly turning the film’s fortunes around in a matter of days. Clips were posted on China’s main social media platforms – Weibo, Douyin and Xiaohongshu – and so China’s worst film became “a Generation Z masterpiece”, writes Radii China, transforming from a $200 flop into “a multi-million cultural phenomenon fuelled by the ironic culture of youth memes”. In just one day, the number of daily screenings rose from 21 to 359, and alongside the shared experience of laughing at its awfulness, what struck Chinese audiences about Niu Lai’s story was the struggle of director Xin Yumeng – a former interior designer with no formal film training – to make the film. Over the course of five years, without any financial backing and using his life savings, Xin single-handedly handled the directing, 3D modelling, animation, editing and male voice-overs for ten different roles, aided in his dream by a single collaborator – his sixty-year-old mother, Sun Lifang – who wrote the screenplay, voiced the female parts and even composed, wrote and sang the theme song for the closing credits.

As well as memes, Chinese netizens have taken to social media to reflect on the aesthetics of ugliness and their dissatisfaction with the current film market in Beijing, which is rife with ‘AI slop’ – extremely low-quality content generated by artificial intelligence – and high-budget Party propaganda blockbusters. “We are all fans of Niu Lai – those of us who have been put through the wringer by life, but have no choice but to find joy in the struggle,” writes one user. “This isn’t a team of professionals looking for shortcuts, but the story of a mother and son who, with great effort, are piecing together a dream in the clumsiest way possible. It is ‘ugly’ in a raw and sincere way. In this sophisticated age where even the sounds of breathing are processed in post-production, this no-frills roughness becomes a unique form of healing.” We appreciate the sincerity and authenticity of two people who are struggling to realise a dream: in this way, even a slapdash film takes on political significance. Yesterday, Niu Lai’s box-office takings had exceeded 18 million yuan (over two million euros), competing with films such as "The Odyssey" and "Spider-Man: Brand New Day"; many have begun to ask: can a film universally recognised as terrible achieve box-office takings completely out of proportion to its quality?

Whilst some Chinese people saw a ‘return to basics’ in a raw, DIY film, younger viewers focused on the provocation; they were not repulsed but fascinated. Summer screenings were organised for films ‘so bad they had to be seen’, and buying a ticket became the ‘social currency’ par excellence, “a way to take part in a huge national joke”, wrote journalist Mandy Wong. In the early days, the film was released in full on Douyin; you don’t have to pay to watch it, yet Chinese people are still buying tickets to see it at the cinema. After watching the film, the distributors advised the director against screening it; Xin did not give up, however, and pushed through the bureaucratic process on his own with his mother, unable to afford any promotional campaigns or even a single poster. In recent days, hand-drawn cinema posters for the film have been shared on social media, bearing the words “no refunds” and celebrating a return to analogue – a symbol of resistance to “AI rubbish” – to the extent that it has even provoked a reaction from the state media in Beijing. The state-run Beijing News wrote that the risk is that Niu Lai will lower “the standards of public expectations” and the minimum quality threshold for audiences, and yesterday a (false) rumour began to circulate on social media that Xin Yumeng had withdrawn the film from cinemas.