“Playing Three-Dimensional Chess”: Balancing Personal Lives and the Status Quo in Violet Du Feng’s ‘The Dating Game’

At the start of Violet Du Feng’s Sundance-debuting The Dating Game we learn that, due to the former one-child policy, China now has 30 million more men than women, an eye-catching number that presents dire implications for the country. But behind the cold facts are flesh and blood human beings—and potential clients for a dating coach named Hao. Hao trains lovelorn males in the techniques of “strategic deception”, such as makeovers, enhanced social media profiles, and cagey communication skills. It’s into this faux glamorous world that three rural wife-seekers step. Zhou, Li, and Wu are all shy but willing to try as they take part in Hao’s fast-paced, week-long dating boot camp. They begin to question what to wear, who to pursue—and most importantly, how far on the spectrum between truth and lies they’re willing to go to meet their match.

While the doc is specific to China, it’s also universal in its critique of how capitalism, consumerism, and social media collide to create a generation that assumes everyone is faking who they are and therefore concludes that they too must “fake it to make it.” As the film progresses, we learn that Hao’s just a village boy who made it in the big city, and even managed to land the stylish Wen (herself a dating coach for women whose advice couldn’t be more at odds with that of her husband’s). In other words, what Hao is really selling is the eternal rags to riches story, the forever elusive Chinese dream.

A week before the film’s World Cinema Documentary Competition premiered today, Documentary reached out to Feng, whose Peabody and Emmy-nominated Hidden Letters (2022) tackled gender stereotypes from the female side. This interview has been edited.

DOCUMENTARY: How did this project originate? How did you meet Hao and his wife? Were they both immediately onboard, or somewhat wary of working with a US-based filmmaker?

VIOLET DU FENG: It took six months to convince Hao and his wife to appear in the film, but the timeframe had nothing to do with me being U.S.-based. I am from Shanghai and moved to the U.S. in 2002. It’s important to me to be using best practices in terms of contributor care, and I was able to talk them through how I’ve done it with previous films. It’s also extra important for Chinese filmmakers to think about issues of consent and risk, given the risk of getting something wrong is higher than in the West.

Hao was more nervous because he’d had a bad experience with an unscrupulous print journalist and he didn’t want to jeopardize his livelihood. Once he understood what I was trying to achieve, he was good with it and wanted to be involved.

D: I’m also quite curious to hear about the casting process. Was the camp Hao’s idea or something created specifically for the film? How did you find potential participants and then narrow it down to these three men?

VDF: Hao hosts dating camps all year, so we worked together to make sure that the participants in the group we filmed represented different aspects of the issue, and that they were completely comfortable being followed. I asked him to help us approach clients of different ages and with different stories to really reveal the myriad themes I wanted to include in the film. Luckily, the dynamic between all of them in the group was also really good. We were really fortunate to embed with this particular cohort in Hao’s bootcamp.

D: While this film is specific to China, it’s also universal in its critique of capitalism, consumerism, and social media combining to wreak havoc on society. The idea of having to “fake it till you make it” isn’t unique to any one country—nor is the urban-rural class schism. Were these themes you set out to explore from the get-go, or did they emerge as you were shooting a doc about the male side of the gender divide?

VDF: I think this question kind of draws out the two personalities of the film. First, I think we are telling a story that is uniquely Chinese, and that cracks open a window into the lives of young men who are yearning for human connection and love but face merciless odds for even getting a first date. China has some very unique challenges that flow from its rich and complex history, and we knew we would find that legacy revealing itself afresh in the very personal aspects of our characters’ lives.

Then, I think we are also looking at a very universal story about love and youth today that transcends borders. How different is the predicament of these twenty-something guys cruising social media apps for a date than that of a young man in London, New Delhi, or Houston, Texas? It’s probably more similar than it is different. They are all looking for love through the portal of social media, with all its mirages and booby traps.

The problems that arise from dating migrating online, and with younger generations struggling with human connection, are absolutely global and getting more acute all the time. The way young people assess what is real or not is a ballooning issue that pops up in every area of their lives, from dating to understanding news. I think the film looks at the universal elements of these themes by introducing the audience to characters who are real people living their lives authentically, while trying to grapple with truth and map their futures at the same time.

What was fascinating to me was how people in the dating scene were now actually feeling the need, whether from internal or external pressure or presumption, to package and market themselves. In other words, to commodify themselves so they can compete. Humans have become a product, they need to sell themselves to have a chance at love. It’s too easy to swipe to the next candidate.

Until I worked with them I didn’t realize the darkness and gravity of what the boys were facing, or the emotional consequences of the societal pressure they were feeling. It’s a heavy toll. All the nuances —the political, economic, and cultural stakes they have to suffer because of the stark gender imbalance in their community—guided me to understand their traumas deep down.

D: I’m also curious about the particular challenges of working in China today. Has this changed over the years?

VDF: As a Chinese filmmaker, developing a creative voice that’s both artistic and nuanced takes an enormous amount of work. Firstly, it’s not a medium that is nurtured or encouraged in the same way as elsewhere; secondly, filmmakers and subjects are at much greater risk of losing their career, status, or even freedom if they make something that upsets the status quo. Oftentimes I feel that finding a creative approach for a film is like playing three-dimensional chess: I want to make poignant films that defy both Chinese propaganda and Western stereotyping without jeopardizing anybody involved with the films. Out of necessity I am extra careful in the way I tell stories, and I think it forces me to be more creative.

I think over the past few years it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to make films in China. I am constantly weighing the risk of potential harm to the subjects for expressing their struggles in my films versus the greater good the films might have. This dance has become trickier and trickier.

D: How do all the participants feel about the final film? Do any of them regret having played this “dating game”?

VDF: We haven’t been able to show them the film yet but they know and understand what’s in it. We are really excited for them to see it. I’m looking forward to them all getting passports so they can travel to another festival in the future and watch an audience enjoy their stories. I really think the story of this group of young men touches on one of the most burning issues for youth, not only in China but throughout the world.

Lauren Wissot is a film critic and journalist, filmmaker and programmer, and a contributing editor at both Filmmaker magazine and Documentary magazine. She also writes regularly for Modern Times Review (The European Documentary Magazine) and has served as the director of programming at the Hot Springs Documentary Film Festival and the Santa Fe Independent Film Festival.