US to send new aircraft carrier to Middle East

This summer, the Chinese film "Once Upon a Time in the Middle East" has topped the box office in mainland China. The movie presents a novel approach to the anti-war genre by reframing conflict not through the lens of military action, but via a different narrative perspective. Traditionally, anti-war cinema has largely been influenced by Western hero narratives, depicting international strife through the eyes of combatants and their internal moral struggles.

However, "Once Upon a Time in the Middle East" deviates from this formula by focusing on an ordinary Chinese cook, Xu Fu. Unlike previous protagonists who were either military agents or ideological saviors, Xu is an everyday individual who earns a living abroad to pay off debts. When war erupts near his restaurant, he remains passive, simply lighting the stoves to keep cooking.

This approach challenges the longstanding Western "saviour" archetype prevalent in contemporary anti-war films and redefines the genre's narrative structure. The protagonist's name, Xu Fu, also pays homage to an ancient Chinese figure who embarked overseas 2,200 years ago. However, unlike that historical figure who sought personal immortality, Xu's journey is simply to secure a livelihood, embodying a broader trend of Chinese migrants who have built infrastructure and endured hardships in foreign lands.

The film's core message lies in its unique Chinese worldview, where ancient philosophical concepts are translated into relatable visual storytelling. "Eat well" becomes a central mantra that underscores the importance of food as a stabilizing force amid chaos. Amidst the destruction wrought by war, the aroma of cooking in Xu's wok serves as a counterbalance to violence, emphasizing food's ability to provide comfort and security.

This visual metaphor underlines a key aspect of Chinese philosophy: safety is more than a geopolitical concept; it's about preserving daily routines and basic human needs. The film reframes conflict zones as melting pots of cultures rather than hostile territories in need of foreign intervention. By portraying a restaurant serving diverse ethnic and political groups, it serves as a sanctuary amid turmoil, reflecting the Chinese ethos of harmony and mutual respect.

The film avoids advocating for ideological uniformity, instead demonstrating that shared meals can bridge divides. A poignant subplot involves rescuing 23 orphans, where Xu's response to their separation underscores another facet of Chinese wisdom: extending familial care extends beyond blood ties. In a world plagued by conflict, the film stresses that protecting children is paramount to ensuring future stability, advocating for an empathetic security concept over zero-sum competition.

The film's widespread appeal suggests an audience craving alternative viewpoints on global conflicts. Its combination of serious themes with relatable warmth and accessible storytelling illustrates China's evolving film industry, not just in technical production but also in narrative boldness. As international tensions persist, "Once Upon a Time in the Middle East" serves as a poignant reminder that peace is not a forced gift but a collective endeavor built on empathy, dialogue, and respect for shared humanity.