Documentary short The Other Side of The Mountain, directed by Yumeng He has managed to make quite a splash in the festival circuit for its unconventional approach and heartfelt story. Yumeng has her artist father, Cheng He, at the centre of it – who she follows to explore his old neighborhood. Cheng had moved from the place many years ago and the documentary is about him trying to recognize the place where he used to live and also relieving the old memories. That also becomes a general topic of discussion in the short. I was fortunate enough to virtually sit-down with Yumeng and have a long chat about her experience of working with her father, her inspiration in filmmaking, how she managed to bring a beautiful, cinematic vibe to her documentary, and so many more things. Have a look.
1. Congratulations on your short film. It’s not everyday one gets to work with their father – how was the experience for you in that context? Were you nervous or excited?
Thank you! Working with my father was a deeply personal yet challenging experience. Having him as the central figure in the film brought an emotional vulnerability that I didn’t get to practice with every project prior to this one. My father is a filmmaker himself, so the process of shooting the film with him was particularly challenging. While he was generally cooperative and generous with the camera, sometimes he questioned the making of the film, like the story structure or the intention of it. Despite that, there were many moments where his emotional reactions surprised me, and I realized how much of his past I hadn’t fully understood before. Overall, working with him on this film was an incredibly rewarding experience as it strengthened our bond and gave me a deeper appreciation of his journey.
2. Why did you name it ‘The Other Side of The Mountain’? I mean, I am curious about the significance of the title.
The film began with an image that left a strong impression on my mind during a road trip in China: a mountain where one side is lush with trees and the other side is a bare, rocky surface, seemingly forgotten after some construction. The representation of mountains in the film is subtle, yet each appearance is linked to my father and my observation of him. In Chinese culture, it is often stated that fathers are akin to mountains, a sentiment I share about my father. The phrase also evokes curiosity about what lies beyond the immediate and familiar—both physically and metaphorically. It’s about uncovering hidden histories and understanding how they shape our identity and place in the world.
3. Can you please tell us a bit about how you zeroed on the subject? What prompted you to make a film about it?
The subject came naturally from a conversation with my father about his childhood home in Chongqing. His memories of the region’s transformation struck me as not just his personal journey but also a reflection of China’s rapid modernization and its impact on personal histories and landscapes. I was drawn to the tension between memory and impermanence, and how the physical spaces we hold dear can disappear or evolve, leaving only traces in our minds. This theme resonated with my broader interest in exploring the relationship between people and the environments that shape their identities. Documenting this journey felt urgent and meaningful—not just for my father, but for anyone who has grappled with the passage of time and the loss of familiar spaces.
4. How would you like the audience to perceive the movie? Do you have anything specific in mind?
I hope the audience views the film as both intimate and universal. On one level, it’s about my father’s personal story, a very intimate journey seen through my eyes, but on another, it speaks to themes of memory, change, and belonging that many can relate to. Rather than prescribing a specific takeaway, I’d like the audience to immerse themselves in the film’s mood and explore its layers for themselves. I would love the audience to ponder these questions with me: what does the landscape tell us about ourselves that we have forgotten to remember? Where do we call home when the landscapes around us are constantly in flux?
5. Will you share a memorable experience during the shooting of the film? I believe filming was not easy?
One of the most memorable moments was when my father and I stood at the doorway of his childhood home. The area had changed so much, yet he pointed out small details—the number of stairs leading to the street and the pencil drawings he had made as a child, which had endured through all these years—that brought his memories flooding back. It was a special moment of connection between past and present, and between us as father and daughter.
6. Watching ‘The Other Side of The Mountain’ made me think of the works of both Bi Gan – who’s contemporary – and also Chris Maker – who’s a legend. This is a complement by the way, how do you feel about that?
Being compared to filmmakers like Bi Gan and Chris Marker is an incredible compliment—thank you! Both are masters of crafting poetic and contemplative cinema, which resonates deeply with me. I’m especially inspired by how their works blend time, memory, and space in such evocative ways. To hear that my film reminded you of their styles is humbling and motivating. It encourages me to keep exploring storytelling that feels both personal and cinematic.
7. Your documentary short has an unmistakable cinematic feel, narrative wise. Was that intentional?
Yes, the cinematic feel was intentional. I wanted the film to straddle the line between documentary and narrative, creating an immersive experience for the audience. The visuals and pacing were carefully designed to reflect the emotional and reflective tone of the story. By incorporating elements like long takes and layered sound design, I hoped to evoke a sense of memory and place that felt almost dreamlike. This approach allowed me to express the themes of impermanence and transformation in a visceral way.
8. While we are at it, do you ever plan to make a transition into telling fictional stories? Or do you plan to stick to documentary filmmaking only?
I love the challenge of working with real stories and finding ways to express them cinematically, yet I’m definitely open to transitioning into fiction in the future. I think the line between documentary and fiction can be very fluid, and I’m intrigued by the possibilities of storytelling in both realms. In recent projects, I’ve seen myself leaning more towards a hybrid form of storytelling. For now, I’m deeply invested in documentary filmmaking, but I see fiction as an exciting new challenge down the road as I am currently drafting fictional scripts for future projects.
9. My next question might feel a little out of place, but I would very much like to know about the films and filmmakers that have inspired or influenced you?
I’m deeply inspired by filmmakers who explore the intersection of personal stories and broader societal themes. Jia Zhangke has been a significant influence for me, particularly his poignant observation of contemporary China and its rapid transformations. Tarkovsky and Antonioni have also shaped my perspective, especially in how they explore the relationship between humans and landscapes, as well as their creative treatment of time and memory. Chris Marker’s approach to storytelling and his blend of documentary and essayistic forms inspire me to push boundaries in my own work. These filmmakers share a sensitivity to the emotional and physical landscapes of their subjects, which I strive to capture in my own films.
10. Lastly, a personal one – how did your father feel about the short? What was his reaction?
My father was moved by the film when he saw the final result. He was also quite surprised by the turnout as the film found its shape only in the editing room. It was emotional for him to revisit his childhood memories and see them preserved on screen, and even more, to have this shared experience with me. He told me that the process made him reflect on his life in ways he hadn’t before, which meant a lot to me. His reaction reaffirmed for me how important it is to document these personal histories.
