Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry is a documentary created by an independent filmmaker, Alison Klayman. This film portrays how the famous Chinese artist has used art and technology to formulate a fierce critique of the Chinese regime. Knowing nothing about the artist, as a viewer I was deeply moved. However, while his inspirations were made clear, this film left some of his pieces to be open to interpretation. Perhaps the design of the documentary was a ploy to get uncultured viewers like myself to learn more about Ai Weiwei and the Chinese regime, but some parts of the film left me feeling alienated and confused.
The film begins by showing Ai Weiwei’s home which doubles as a pet sanctuary as well as an art studio. This perfectly illustrates how his personal life, selfless desire to help ones in need, and artistry collide. He explains how out of his 40 cats, only one especially clever feline has taught itself how to open a door. Ai moralizes: “The biggest difference between people and cats is that cats will open the door but they will never close it behind them.” He does not elaborate but, clearly, there’s a lesson to be learned. In my opinion, Ai is the cat. He wants to open the door for people in his country and empower them to work towards the betterment of the humanity. Ai Weiwei followed in his father, Ai Qing’s footsteps of being a silent, yet unmovable force that stands up for his people while everyone else around him stays quiet. He is a rebel with a soft side that is so beautifully balanced and reflected in his works. His art gives him strength and his followers are both inspired and empowered because of his undying bravery. He understands the system he is living in and works tirelessly to expose its shortcomings.
Ai comes across as a pest to Chinese officials. He constantly challenges their rules and authority as a way to challenge them to improve. In fact, he is literally photographed giving the finger to multiple Chinese monuments. He knows what he is up against and finds ingenious ways to expose them for exactly what they are. He does not want to be another artist who complains about their corrupt government without actually experiencing it first hand so he uses every opportunity to either provoke them or test them to further investigate the inner workings of said government. Whether that takes the form of dining with his fans outside, smashing Han dynasty vases, or filing a complaint, Weiwei never runs out of ways to stick it to the man. While these things may seem like petty infractions, under Communist rule, it is pretty bold to go against the status quo but Ai feels as if it must be done. If not by himself, then who? He has no problem sacrificing himself for the betterment of his country, no matter how scary it can be. When asked why he’s so fearless he counters by saying, “I’m so fearful.” At the same time, he continues, “If you don’t act, the dangers become stronger.”
Weiwei’s artworks beg us to reflect not only upon aesthetic beauty, but also on the personal and historical significance of everything – from sign and signifier to style and shape. His works rely on physical juxtaposition as well as defying what a typical viewer may expect. His willingness to hire other artists to help him construct his art highlights his appreciation for individuality and how that comes together as a whole to make a beautiful piece. His art mocks Communism and Capitalism and highlights the feats of everyday people and workers. Viewers are asked to look deeper into his artwork and to find the conceptual meaning instead of a seemingly obvious one. His work is both empowering and intimidating but accurately reflects his mother country and how he feels about it. It is the very tangible nature of Ai’s art that further complicates the movie. No film can properly portray the heaviness of his works, a perfect example of this is his 2010 installation Sunflower Seeds in Tate Modern‘s Turbine Hall, in which each ‘seed’ was actually a hand painted piece of porcelain with almost 100 million of them filling the exhibition space. This was meant to represent Chinese individual identity being lost in a communist regime. In my opinion, this was one of Ai’s most awe-inspiring works but Klayman quickly glossed over it and robbed viewers of the magnitude of the experience.
As inspiring as the documentary was, it still has its shortcomings. Klayman attempts to give us a fly-on-the-wall experience with this documentary. Viewers can see things are they are happening however our scope is very limited. We hardly get to see or hear from Ai Weiwei himself and have to rely on interviews from other people, his tweets, and publications. Without much insight from the artist, this documentary provides an experience that leaves the viewer wanting more from the artist himself. The documentary is put together in an unconventional timeline that confuses the audience, especially those who may not be privy to what is going in China. A lot of his artworks are shown but not explained. These tacky insertions rob the documentary of its power and leave the viewer feeling underwhelmed.
The documentary means well but it is pretty ironic in that it is the opposite of Ai’s proclivity to individuality. With so many people speaking for him, Ai’s voice gets lost in translation. Sometimes the interviews of other people contradict his own words. I do not believe that this was Klayman’s intention. I sense that she was aiming more towards introducing the world to the artist that is Ai Weiwei despite attempts from the Chinese government to silence him. While this documentary does leave viewers wanting to learn more about the artist, it still fails to capture his essence.
