I was invited to see She Has No Name at TIFF, and the title immediately caught my interest. It sounded mysterious and promised something unusual. Before the film started, the director, Peter Chan, appeared on stage. He wore a suit with oversized sneakers, which reminded me of Fatouta, an Egyptian television character from 1982, known for his tiny body and oversized shoes. It was a light, almost comical image, and I thought to myself, This could be interesting.
The film was set during the Japanese occupation of China. At first, I noticed the picture quality wasn’t very good; it looked blurry. But as the story moved forward, the quality shifted and became clearer, as if it had suddenly changed reels.
The opening scene set the tone. A blind man wakes up to liquid dripping on his face from the ceiling. At first, he thinks it’s water leaking from the neighbours above, but we quickly realize it’s blood. Later, he explains that although the cold has damaged his sense of smell, he can still tell the difference between water and blood by the thickness and texture. For someone who depends on touch and other senses, it was an interesting idea, though not entirely convincing.
As the story unfolded, the case of a woman who murdered her husband became central. The husband’s body had been cut into pieces, and the head was missing. The investigation exposed cruelty, poverty, and power struggles. There were scenes of violence against women that I found very hard to watch. Although they were meant to show the brutality of the time, they made the film heavy and uncomfortable.
As the movie progresses, the blind man, who seemed at first like a bystander, was telling the commissioners to drop the case and not to interfere. But the commissioner thought differently. Instead of leaving it alone, he became increasingly obsessed with solving the crime, no matter the cost and executed the wife “the killer”. This obsession slowly consumed him and drove the story forward. The moment the blind man said he should let it go, I thought, Oh no, this is going to become another Les Misérables. And in many ways, it did; one man chasing justice or truth from his perspective, driven by his ego, while being swallowed by his own determination.
There were moments of strength in the film. The scenes showing the struggles of ordinary people under occupation were powerful, and some performances carried real weight. But overall, the combination of bleakness, obsession, and repeated brutality left me unsettled. I left the cinema feeling that the film had started with mystery and promise, but ended up heavier, darker, and more familiar than I had hoped.
After we finished watching the film, I felt it was very predictable and too close to Les Misérables in spirit. I can also understand why it was poorly received in China. It reminded people of a dark era, and the constant brutality towards women was difficult to watch. Women were treated as if they were nothing, with no voice and no value.
What I did find interesting was the way the woman at the centre of the case was portrayed. She was shown as illiterate, simple, and almost naïve, a woman who had spent her life with a worthless husband who gambled away her money while she worked tirelessly to pay his debts. Yet in court, she showed intelligence and courage. When she overheard that the victim’s head had never been found, she remembered it later during her trial. The commissioner had tried to trick her by insisting they had found the head, but she stood up for herself and challenged him. As the film went on, she became more aware, using what she heard from others and what was written in the newspapers about her case and women like her.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder: if she had that strength and awareness, why did it only come out then? Why did she endure years trapped with her husband instead of walking away earlier? That question stayed with me long after the film ended.
In the end, She Has No Name had a few powerful moments and performances, but overall, it left me unsettled. It began with mystery and promise but ultimately fell short, becoming heavy, predictable, and bleak, weighed down by familiar patterns and the endless suffering of its female characters.
She Has No Name might have been considered a success if it had been released in the 1980s or early 1990s. At that time, the style of storytelling, the pacing, and the heavy moral themes might have struck a stronger chord with audiences. But watching it now, it felt predictable. The story followed a very straight line, with little in the way of surprise.
For a film dealing with such a grim subject, I expected it to challenge me more, to pull me into directions I hadn’t thought of, or to twist the narrative in ways that would leave me unsettled but impressed. Instead, it felt as though I could see every step coming. The obsession of the commissioner, the suffering of the woman, the bleakness of the setting all unfolded exactly as I imagined they would.
What the film needed was more depth in its storytelling, unexpected turns that would keep the audience guessing, or fresh perspectives that might shed new light on the characters. Without that, the film never rose above being a familiar tragedy. It had potential, but instead of surprising or moving me in new ways, it left me with the sense that I had seen it all before.
As I reflected on the film during the ride home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, while the story was set in a specific time and place, its themes are painfully timeless. This made it all the more disappointing that the film chose predictability over creativity. Perhaps it was the yearning for a new perspective on age-old issues that made the experience feel more like a missed opportunity than a fully realized vision.
Ultimately, while She Has No Name was ambitious in its attempt to grapple with dark themes, it fell short of the mark, leaving me both challenged and frustrated, rather than enlightened. It served as a reminder that a compelling story requires not just a heavy topic but also a spark of originality and insight that can truly engage the audience.
