BEIJING - China's censorship of films, books and the Internet is far-reaching and persnickety. It can also be puzzling. Why do some movies pass and others don't? Sometimes, it may merely be a question of timing.
As I note in my Letter from China this week, the release of “The Last Supper,†a movie by the director Lu Chuan, was held up by the authorities for nearly five months; it was supposed to have opened last July. The authorities apparently did not want Chinese film-goers watching a tale of the bloody overthrow of the despotic Qin dynasty and the establishment of the Han dynasty - an event that happened about 2,200 years ago - before the power transfer here in Beijing in mid-November, when Xi Jinping became the new head of the ruling Communist Party, succeeding Hu Jintao.
Of course, November's leadership transfer was peaceful and nothing like the bloody ruckus of centuries past. What parallels might be drawn between the two events wasn't clear to this spectator, but the authorities' nervousness seemed to reflect a profound political anxiety.
In contrast, “Beijing Blues,†which won the world's most prestigious Chinese-language feature film prize at the Golden Horse Awards in Taiwan this week, had a smoother passage. It screened here in July, the month Mr. Lu's film was supposed to open, even though it portrays policemen, a topic the authorities watch carefully, too. Chinese movies are not permitted to show a policeman in a bad light.
Despite this fact, “Beijing Blues†manages to be wonderfully gritty and utterly authentic as it shows cops coping with ordinary Beijingers, quite a few of whom are short of money but long in bravado.
Its central character, a detective called “Hunter†Zhang, or Zhang Huiling, is middle-aged and kind, asthmatic and depressed by his job. But in the quirky fashion that characterizes the entire movie, Mr. Zhang is pleased with his recent discovery of the phrase “nega tive energy,†which, in one memorable scene, he rolls around his mouth as he uses it to describe, again and again, the feeling of being faced with the small-time thieves he must catch. Mr. Zhang estimates he's caught about 2,000 thieves so far and is resigned to a life filled with “annoying things,†he says.
“Beijing Blues†was a surprise choice for the prize - it's a low-budget film by the director Gao Qunshu, who is not among the most famous names. Its characters are played by an amateur cast that includes ordinary people as well as celebrities such as bloggers, publishers and T.V. presenters. The film captures Beijing's whitish, polluted skies, its bitter winter cold, its street humor and moments of darkness.
As Maggie Lee says in a review in Variety magazine, “Mr. Zhang has a number of farcical encounters with high-strung individuals and frenzied mobsters who self-righteously thrash suspects while the police look on with arms crossed.
“A p icture emerges of a metropolis whose inhabitants can be charmingly extroverted yet disturbingly aggressive, an implied comment on the pressures of city life. The moral ambiguity of such a society is underlined by recurring scenes of skeptical citizens unable to tell cops from criminals,†Ms. Lee writes.
“I don't have any big cases,†Mr. Zhang says in the movie. Still, “it's quite a disturbing job.â€
Tell that to the censors.
