“A quiet, meditative drama about loneliness and self-reflection.”

Lei is a young woman who leads a seemingly ordinary life in Beijing, adapting to big-city life alongside her long-term girlfriend, with whom she has a relatively strong relationship. However, with the New Year imminent, she makes the very difficult decision to ask a male friend to accompany her to visit her family. They are unaware of her sexuality, something that she has intentionally shielded from them for years, and which she is not ready to reveal just yet. The situation is further complicated when her girlfriend (who she presents as merely a friend and roommate) decides that she is not going to be shrouded in secrecy, dropping in unexpectedly and causing this already tense family reunion to become even more challenging, and to risk being derailed by such a sudden revelation. This premise is the foundation of Michelle Zhou’s feature directorial debut Big Little Things, an intimate character-driven drama in which we are introduced to a young woman who has been grappling with her identity, as well as how she is perceived by those around her, to the point where she starts to question every decision she has made thus far, which is compounded by the intense pressure she feels to conform to the standards placed on her by others. Covering topics that will likely resonate with many viewers who have felt the terrible burden of not being able to live openly as themselves, Big Little Things may not be particularly daring beyond some of its subtle conversations on gender and identity, but still proves to be remarkably moving.

Big Little Things touches on several distinct themes, but chooses one particular idea as both the narrative and emotional anchor: the unbearable burden of keeping a secret, and the impact it can have on those who surround you. Lei believes her plan is harmless, that pretending to be someone she isn’t for a few days is a necessary sacrifice for both her peace of mind and that of her parents, who she doesn’t think would be able to handle her coming out. However, as the story progresses, we see just how destructive this lie can be for everyone, with her parents feeling deceived and her partner betrayed, leading to intense confrontations that reopen old wounds between them. The message that Zhou is communicating here (and which comes from her own experiences, having been the girlfriend of someone who wasn’t quite ready to reveal herself to her parents) is that concealing your true self can become all-consuming to the point where you lose sight of reality and start to hurt those around you, especially your loved ones. Through this, the film becomes a fascinating depiction of the ongoing battle between tradition and modernity, where the beliefs of these characters clash and cause interpersonal tensions that only further widen the divide between them. Rather than taking a side on the issue, Zhou approaches it from multiple perspectives, attempting to show why Lei would feel compelled to hide her true self, as well as the disappointment felt by both her parents and her partner when it becomes clear that her actions are less about their protection, and more about her avoidance of the difficult conversations that emerge as the film progresses.

The subject matter of Big Little Things may lead one to expect an overwrought affair, the kind of melodramatic family saga that relies heavily on emotional outbursts and moments of hysteria to communicate the tensions between these people. However, it is a surprisingly restrained film, following a more subtle approach in which authenticity is prioritised over extreme, forceful emotions. This doesn’t mean that there isn’t a notable degree of intensity between these characters, especially in the later scenes where emotions are at their peak – but rather than telling the audience how to feel, the director concerns herself with finding the truth behind these characters, all of them constructed as three-dimensional, genuine people rather than just thinly veiled archetypes designed to contribute to a conventional social realist drama. Zhou has wonderful control of the emotions in this film, constantly provoking uncomfortable ideas without allowing the story to tip over into exaggerated theatrics. This not only spares the viewer from the frustration of seeing yet another familial drama fall victim to the same tropes, but also elevates the message at the core of the story. Ultimately, Big Little Things is a film not only about exposing tensions but also the efforts of these characters to find common ground with one another, especially in moments where it feels most difficult. It’s a sensitive, mature approach to a topic that has been explored before, yet it certainly feels effective when filtered through such a delicate, earnest lens with which a filmmaker tries to understand different perspectives on a very challenging subject.

On the surface, Big Little Things does seem almost pedestrian, since it is not dissimilar to other films that tackle the same idea of someone being forced to reveal their inner identity to their loved ones as a result of circumstances. However, if we look slightly deeper and focus on both the themes being examined and the ways in which the director tells the story, it becomes clear that there is more to this film than meets the eye. The approach it takes is not necessarily innovative, but rather consistent in its values, relying on the strong writing and dedicated work from its small but impactful ensemble of actors to infuse it with a genuine humanity. It’s a quiet, meditative drama about loneliness and self-reflection, filtered through the story of a young woman grappling with the prospect of gradually being forced to reveal herself to a family that she doesn’t believe will accept her if she lives authentically. It presents a soulful examination of the challenges people like Lei have to endure, particularly when it becomes clear that the process of coming out is not only about seeking acceptance from others, but also from herself, and asking who is truly protected by hiding the truth. Zhou takes a sensitive approach to a complex subject, examining how time and distance may provide comfort but do not aid the far more daunting process of healing. These ideas ultimately coalesce into a forthright, honest drama that focuses on two generations trying to understand one another and working through their own personal dilemmas and insecurities, in the hopes of using this raw tension to come to a shared agreement and mutual understanding by embracing harsh realities rather than retreating from them.