Mountains May Depart (2015)

Mountains May Depart feels special because it captures the sweep of a changing world through the intimate weather of one woman’s life, letting decades pass like seasons while emotions stay stubbornly human. Jia Zhangke films with a quiet, luminous beauty—every frame attentive to places, faces, and the way time reshapes both—while the performances land with a natural power that sneaks up on you and then won’t let go. The tone is poignant and reflective, sometimes gently romantic, sometimes aching, always nuanced in how it observes China’s shifting values without turning people into symbols. It’s an ambitious, patient film that rewards viewers who like to sit with mood and meaning, but if you need fast plot turns or neat closure, it may feel more like a meditation than a melodrama.

Mountains May Depart is reaching for something big: an intimate, decades-spanning portrait of love, money, and cultural drift as one woman’s life echoes across 1999, 2014, and 2025. When it works, it’s quietly moving and visually thoughtful, with a strong sense of time and place anchoring the early sections. But the structure can feel uneven, and by the final act the film’s emotional connection thins out, with the English-heavy stretch coming off more awkward than illuminating. If you need tight storytelling and a consistently building payoff, this may frustrate you; if you’re patient with a flawed, ambitious mood piece, you’ll likely find enough beauty and intention to make it worthwhile.