Wait – since when did a Chinese comedy about office politics get a French remake? In the past, global viewers often approached Chinese cinema with a kind of exoticism, expecting martial arts, period dramas and mystical imagery far removed from their daily lives. But something is changing. Take the French remake of Johnny Keep Walking!, a comedy about workplace struggles in contemporary China.

What resonated with French film producers wasn't its "Chineseness" but its universality. Anyone who has worked in a modern office – whether in Beijing or Paris – understands office politics, career anxiety and the quest for a better life. When French media covered the remake deal, headlines read "When China's office workers meet French humor." This cross-cultural resonance cuts far deeper than crafted cultural exoticism.

In recent years, Chinese cinema has captured global attention in ways previously unseen. A quiet but profound transformation took place between 2024 and 2026: Chinese filmmakers moved away from narratives that emphasize China's "otherness" toward stories that tap into our shared human experience. This shift is subtly yet significantly reshaping how global audiences perceive China.

Behind this shift is a simple yet profound realization among Chinese filmmakers: what truly transcends borders isn't what makes China different, but what makes Chinese people similar to everyone else. When a Xinjiang herder in The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Great Hero keeps his word against all odds, when a Shenzhen white-collar worker in Silent Alarm navigates workplace dilemmas, international audiences don't see distant others. They see ordinary people with familiar joys and struggles.

Notably, this emotional resonance is translating into real-world travel intentions. During this year's ITB Berlin, the world's leading travel trade show, Volker Adams, head of Political Affairs and Tourism at the German Travel Association, stated that European public interest in modern China has been steadily increasing in recent years, adding that film is becoming an important medium and effective bridge for connecting this interest with real-world experience. The numbers back this up. After Silent Alarm hit theaters, Shenzhen welcomed over 10 million visitors, generating more than 10 billion yuan (around $1.45 billion) in tourism revenue. Following the Ne Zha series franchise's success, the Ne Zha Temple in Yibin, Sichuan Province, saw tourist numbers triple. These figures suggest that when international viewers form emotional connections with Chinese cities and landscapes on screen, they're more likely to put those places on their travel wish list.

At the industry level, Chinese cinema's international collaborations are evolving too. Where once "going global" meant simple copyright sales, projects like the Johnny Keep Walking! remake signal a shift from content export to IP asset management. This means Chinese stories are no longer passive cultural products but creative assets with sustained development value. For international audiences, it also means more diverse, contemporary Chinese narratives to engage with.

Challenges remain. Language barriers persist, cultural nuances require careful translation, and distribution channels still require expansion. Yet one thing is clear: when stories are rooted in local experience but speak to universal truths, they open a window. Through that window, the world sees a China that feels less foreign, more familiar, and ultimately, worth getting to know.

This phenomenon is not new. Long before today's Chinese productions found global audiences, James Cameron's Avatar drew inspiration from the towering quartz-sandstone pillars of Zhangjiajie National Forest Park in Hunan Province, transforming China's ancient geology into Pandora's floating Hallelujah Mountains and proving that China's landscapes have always belonged not just to one nation, but to the world's imagination.

The magic of cinema has always extended beyond the screen. It's an invitation – a chance for audiences worldwide to step into unfamiliar landscapes and connect with unfamiliar faces through shared emotion. That may be where Chinese cinema's greatest potential lies: not in emphasizing difference, but in quietly demonstrating "we are similar." When international viewers see Chinese people on screen and recognize themselves, a natural curiosity follows – a desire not to just watch, but to experience, to travel and to understand. 

(Cover: Two moviegoers going into a theater with snacks to see the Chinese film Dead to Rights, Los Angeles, United States, August 14, 2025. /VCG)