MINGHUN, or the story of two guys searching for corpses [REVIEW]

Forgive the seemingly mocking title, but Minghun by Jan P. Matuszyński is a rather heavy film in terms of subject matter—it deals with a loss that is difficult to describe—whose greatest value lies in the skillfully measured humor, primarily resulting from the clash of cultures. Minghun tells the story of Jurek (Marcin Dorociński), who, after losing his beloved daughter Mei-Xiu (Natalia Bui), succumbs to the persuasion of his father-in-law and decides to honor his child’s Chinese heritage by performing a traditional posthumous wedding ritual.

From a Western perspective, the custom of minghun seems extremely exotic and often likely incomprehensible—we find it hard to believe that two souls, prematurely taken from the earthly realm, not only continue to exist after death but can also unite and lead a joint “life.” Such a belief still exists among some people in China. Thus, when Mei-Xiu, affectionately called Misia by her loved ones, passes away prematurely, the initially skeptical Jurek decides to ensure that his daughter does not walk through the afterlife alone. The problem arises when the characters decide to move from theory to practice—how to find a worthy partner for Misia, one who also has recently departed life? The first part of Minghun is a moving and emotionally challenging journey through Jurek’s early stages of grief—the scenes where the father learns of his daughter’s death are a powerful emotional blow to the viewer, even though they occur relatively early. The swift exposition might be a point of contention for some, but it seems to be a deliberate choice by Matuszyński—the director appears more interested in Jurek’s later stages of grief and his transformation from initial reluctance towards the minghun ritual to a desire to ensure his daughter has a companion for her posthumous journey.

The cultural clash between Poland and China in Minghun is rather superficial—don’t expect an in-depth comparative analysis or study of specific elements of both cultures. Yes, Jurek, his daughter, and friends celebrate the Chinese New Year, but this is merely a visually appealing device illustrating the cultural crossroads in which Jurek finds himself. After his wife Lan passed away many years earlier, he is the sole guardian of cultural balance in Mei-Xiu’s upbringing, and according to his role—albeit against his agnostic beliefs—he decides to cooperate with his father-in-law, who came from Scotland, and complete the ritual. An unexpected partner in this journey is Ania (the excellent Ewelina Starejki), who runs a nearby shop. Through her, Jurek opens up, becoming a confidant to a woman also experiencing loss. A once alien character surprisingly infiltrates the protagonist’s life, adding depth to both him and the story seen on screen. Focusing on the process of working through loss, Minghun also becomes an inadvertent commentary on the life of “Gen Z” in Poland—their fears of independence and of opening up to another person. And although this is somewhat an “addition” to the main plot, the accuracy of these observations—and the balanced way they are presented—are undoubtedly worthy of appreciation.

Minghun is proof of Jan P. Matuszyński’s great sensitivity, a director who in recent years has already confirmed his talent in various film genres and television productions. However, his latest work is probably his most personal, marked by personal grief. And although, according to the director’s statements, work on Minghun began long before his father’s death, it is not hard to guess that the tenderness with which he tells the traumatic process of saying goodbye to a loved one has its roots in Matuszyński’s personal experiences. When cinema intertwines with real life, exceptional works are created.