A Prison Called Home

The everyday lives of four generations of the Lu family reflect the struggles faced by generations of Chinese people. The crushing burden of down payments and mortgages, the strictures of wedding invitations and betrothals, the distortion of education obsessed with academic success, and the ties of caring for the elderly: four cages turn “home” from a warm harbor into a prison holding three generations captive. Eldest son Xiaofeng and Su Qing rush to fulfill wooden-chair orders to pay their mortgage, missing the sight of Lele sleeping. Their daughter Xiaoman wavers between marriage and freedom, hiding her fear of caring for her parents behind a letter of accusation. Their father, Jianguo, is weighed down by responsibility, while Li Hui is trapped in anxiety over “nutritious meals,” forgetting that Lele loves zhajiangmian best. They build the cage with their own hands, then become trapped beasts inside it, losing the warmth between them in their obsession with doing everything “for the family.” The way out lies in the small details of everyday life: Li Hui sets aside what is “right” in favor of what she “likes”; Xiaofeng turns down a hundred-thousand-yuan order to be there for his family; and, through her grandfather’s wooden comb and diary, Xiaoman comes to understand that at the heart of “fear” lies “love.” This is no revolution that smashes locks, but a search for room to breathe within the shackles, rebuilding the dignity of life with a bowl of hot porridge, a wooden comb, and the willingness to wait. This is an allegory of survival for everyone. It offers no cure, only a glimpse of the resilience of humanity in the face of hardship. When three generations pass along that imperfect wooden comb, they finally understand: though this world may be a prison, wherever the heart finds peace is home.