“Yolo” (2024), also known as “A Hot Spicy Boiling Burning [Life],” is a Chinese adaptation of a Japanese film called “100 Yen Love” (2014). 32-year-old Leying Du (director and cowriter Jia Ling) spends all day lying on her couch, sleeping, and eating. Desperate to get Leying to start living again, her family enlists cousin Doudou (Yang Zi), who is an intern on a reality TV show, “Find Yourself,” to get Leying to apply to become a contestant and find a job. Leying refuses and has numerous setbacks before she decides to find herself. She gets her own job, a place away from her family and a hobby, boxing. She falls for one of the Xinli fitness coaches, Hao Kun (Lei Jiaying), who is a bit of a misfit too and is the least popular coach at the gym. Leying’s relationship with Hao Kun opens her eyes and reveals how she needs to change her life and save herself.
Who expected that the next Rocky or Creed film would be an unrelated sidequel with a Chinese woman as the protagonist and lots of comedy? “Yolo” may initially seem predictable, but there are numerous twists and turns which most movie lovers will not see coming. I did not know what to expect from the movie, but I enjoy boxing, and I love women who kick ass, so I went in without any expectations. Once the movie began, I became concerned that it was fat phobic because Leying’s girth is largely played for laughs in the opening. I am unfamiliar with Ling, so I did not know that she gained weight to prepare for the movie. While Ling’s transformation and dedication are undeniable, I questioned why she had to gain weight to play someone that people call a loser. The underlying assumption is that people do not assume that losers are thin so while Ling’s intentions may be pure, her decision still enforces prevailing beliefs. As the film unfolded, I hoped that Ling was depicting Leying from others’ perspectives, not hers, and the switch happens when the credits roll once Leying starts wandering around the city, observing the sights, and reeling from her most recent disappointment.
A consistent message in “Yolo” is that horrible people surround Leying, and they do not appreciate or see her as a real person. It was frustrating that the film never reveals why Leying stopped working after she graduated from college. After glimpsing some of Leying’s life, an unremitting cycle of Leying trying hard then failing because of her friends and family’s needless cruelty, it is not hard to guess. As Leying tries to make a modest, fresh start, “Yolo” effectively makes it impossible not to root for her, and her first steps of solitary independence are realistic. She is a sweet, soft-spoken person, and a coworker seems to be a promising prospect as a friend, but sadly Ling fails to follow this thread, and instead explores the inherent comedic mismatch of an awkward boxing zealot with a woman who prefers to remain sedentary.
Leying furtively compares herself to her fellow gym goers and other couples going on dates and wordlessly assesses herself as falling short. Ling shines at contrasting the realistic images of getting in shape with photogenic, younger people using the gym as an excuse to flirt. Ling is also a great actor in projecting her character’s emotions on her face so she can convey Leying’s internal life. She accepts that her relationship will be far from the romantic ideal and is just happy to be in one. Hao Kun is an affable underdog. He takes everything seriously and throws himself into teaching her. It feels as if they accept each other and are refreshingly earnest in a society that only cares about money, looks and status. Note to Americans: China may be communist, but it is also deeply capitalistic. Ling squeezes a little sardonic commentary on Chinese commercialism with her depictions of martial artist actors shilling for local businesses, pseudo psychologists, platitude professors and sexually exploitive bosses. This relationship does not make Leying immune from the pain of her status in her neighborhood. Ling asks how much longer will Leying suffer before she breaks the cycle.
A lot! Leying will be relatable to anyone watching “Yolo.” No one is immune to family acrimony, friendship betrayals and disappointing relationships. Leying takes a long time before she becomes fully committed to herself and boxing instead of waiting for others to treat her right. She finds self-worth and shakes off her need for external validation, which is symbolized through boxing. Boxing replaces eating as her self-soothing, emotionally regulating tool.
Ling balances the traditional training montages with subverting expectations. Leying’s fight in the ring is almost autobiographical in the physical manifestation of the blows that she endured in real life. It is brutal and unflinching, but as the rounds continue, Ling shows mercy and moves the camera further away so the viewer does not have to witness the physical torture. As her family and Hao Kun watch Leying in the ring, they feel guilt as if they inflicted the blows and created Leying’s thirst for winning. Leying transforms from a woman who never wanted to try because she saw defeat as inevitable to a woman who refuses to quit despite all obstacles.
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There are so many obstacles, and Leying adds to them by being selfless and not prioritizing herself. Leying must love her niece because I am not getting a job, paying rent, and giving away my property to a harridan sister, who just kicked my ass. I signed up for a woman kicking ass, not a rom com helping her boyfriend kick ass, but I wanted Leying to be happy so I hoped that they would work together, and their misfit natures would be complementary. When she let this man quit his job and move into her place, then spent all her money on him, I knew that he would turn on her. Once Doudou fed her the boxing line, I knew that she was not on Leying’s side, and Leying should get a lawyer and sue her and the show.
When Leying decides to hit her boss, it is the first time that she stands up for herself. The only unrealistic scene in “Yolo” is that she survived a fall without serious injuries. That unremitting, still long shot of her ascent up the outdoor staircase of her building was devastating and gorgeous. When she turned on the light in her apartment, it looked like the curtains were on fire. I hated the recaps and flashbacks throughout the film, but the final act reveal of her responses to indignities accumulating until she attempts to commit suicide made it believable that she would commit to an arduous, single-minded life devoted to learning how to fight back or “win just once.”
“Yolo” visually and unintentionally enforces the bias that internal transformation is reflected externally. I was surprised when she physically transformed, and she looked amazing. I love a glow up, but could the same scene be accomplished if she did not look so perfect, and would it not still convey the same message? I’ll admit that when I saw the abs, I was happy for her, but then are we not all enforcing a world in which the same person is not valued because of her appearance, and she can only prove herself by adhering to the beauty and physical standards of her haters? Don’t get me wrong! I enjoyed it and walked away impressed, but maybe I should have been impressed earlier when she was overweight? She is the same person, but we stop feeling pity and start feeling admiration after the transformation. Ling shatters our fairytale notions and will not let Leying win in a conventional way. I think that we are supposed to conclude that every time she stood up after someone hurt her, it was the same in the ring, but I fear that the ugly duckling/beautiful swan trope says more about what we want. It was moving to see her present and past selves cheer each other as she walked to the ring.
“Yolo” is no “Shrek” (2001) and Leying is no Princess Fiona. I kind of love that her real coach ended up being the guy who was shown briefly talking to Hao Kun. He knew how to fake the funk and the real deal about his situation. I also loved that Leying is the person that Hao Kun thought he was, and his humiliating fight scene was brilliant. Even though it would miss the point of the movie, I want a sequel of Leying on the fighting circuit because she was agile, had great upper cuts and jabs. Also now that Leying can fight, I want her to beat up her sister a little. And Leying needs to write a thank you card to her best friend and ex-boyfriend for saving her time. Her best friend and ex were kind of a perfect match because they were so dreadful.
I also owe Ling an apology. Despite spending most of my life in film consuming Asian cinema, when I was writing an article on 2024 women filmmakers, I totally missed Ling, which is inexcusable. I also think that I do not understand the different between global box office and international. “Yolo” came in second for the prior, but if I look at the worldwide box office, it is 83.
