• Reviews

• All
• Music
• DVDs
• Live
• Cinema
• TV
• Books
• Comic Books
• Video Games

Jan 16, 2026 Web Exclusive By Kaveh Jalinous Photography by The Criterion Collection

Chinese auteur Jia Zhang-ke is no stranger to capturing change. It’s an element at the beating heart of many of his works, both on the personal and national level. In his latest film, Caught by the Tides (2024), Jia explores this element of life from more angles than ever before. On a surface level, the film explores the change in two people’s relationship, set against the backdrop of China’s modernization. On a more meta level, the work explores how film constantly evolves as well. Images don’t have to stay confined to one film or story; they can lend themselves to additional ones as well.

Some context may be needed here. Caught by the Tides is an agglomeration of footage Jia has shot throughout his career, both for fiction and non-fiction works. Longtime Jia fans will recognize footage from Unknown Pleasures (2002), Still Life (2006) and Ash is Purest White (2018). Images from those three works are spliced against documentary footage Jia has captured throughout his time as a filmmaker, as well as new footage shot in 2022, capturing Chinese life amidst the COVID-19 pandemic.

There is a narrative: The film tracks the relationship between Qiao Qiao (Zhao Tao) and Bin (Li Zhubin) at three different times in their life: in 2001, when Bin decides to leave the city of Datong for a better life, in 2006, when Qiao Qiao goes looking for him, and in 2022, when they reconnect unexpectedly. The narrative’s prominence in the film varies. At times, the story is the only thing on-screen; at other times, it’s a background character in a documentary-ish portrait of a country’s change.

The thin line between fiction and documentary is what makes Caught by the Tides so exciting to watch unfold. The style of the footage changes often. Sometimes characters are captured with über-modern, pristine digital cameras; other times (specifically with older, documentary footage), scenes are filmed with a grainy DV camera. The constant stylistic changes, moving through time and space in quick fashion, is rarely distracting. Instead, it becomes more of a challenge, as viewers try to piece together connections between the different images, regardless of their original context. Early moments that feel passing come back in big ways, and personal conflicts are tied to national ones in an expressive, thoughtful and at times sobering way.

Caught by the Tides also emphasizes the importance of how film’s power lies in the construction of images, rather than individual images themselves. When footage is assembled from so many different sources, whether it’s personal footage or footage that’s been used as part of another film, the images take on new meaning. MiniDV footage of the crowded town streets early in the film, juxtaposed eventually against footage of houses abandoned due to the town’s rising water levels, affects you differently than digesting either of those images alone or within a different film’s story. The blend between fictional scenes and observational, documentary-like ones has the same effect. You emerge with a specific, clear understanding of how relationships change alongside the world around them. In this reality, time becomes both heavy and meaningless. It ushers in change, yet the problems that strike us never disappear; they just evolve. These revelations lead to an absolutely staggering final 20 minutes, and some of this critic’s favorite Jia imagery in years.

Criterion Premieres’ new Blu-ray release of the film is light on extras; the main feature is a Criterion Channel interview with Jia himself. There’s also a great, highly digestible essay by film critic Carlos Aguilar. Regardless, this is a must-buy for those seeking out great contemporary Chinese films, Jia fans in general and physical media collectors; you won’t want to miss out on adding one of 2024’s best films to your collection.

(www.criterion.com/films/34797-caught-by-the-tides)