★★★★★
Badou Zhao makes his directorial debut with Crossing A Dawn, a twenty-four-hour period piece that captures the essence of romantic comedies while embodying the grounded, cinematic bliss of films like Before Sunrise.
Telling the story of two people who meet by chance and share an uncanny connection, yet with nowhere to go, they find themselves wandering the city through the night.
It is a story that, in many ways, has been told before, yet never quite like this. While a few notable films have defined this subgenre—and many more have tried and failed—Crossing A Dawn paves a new path.
“Crossing A Dawn paves a new path for one of cinema’s most beloved romantic subgenres.”
Zhao pens a script that is insightful, self-aware, hilarious, and heartfelt.
The characters are self-aware in the Kevin Williamson sense. They’re aware of their situation, as well as the cinematic universe in which pop culture and film are relevant to their lives.
Xu and Chen are not only aware of their similarities to films like Before Sunrise; they actively reference it in conversation, along with Chungking Express.
These pop culture references engage with the reality in which the film takes place, creating fun moments without ever feeling forced.
What truly sets Crossing A Dawn apart from so many films that have tried to rekindle the magic of stories like this, however, is its characters.
The way Zhao crafts them is key. It’s not only Chen and Xu—though both are richly explored. They’re flawed, carrying traits like jealousy and lust while also possessing admiration, humor, heart, courage, insecurity, and vulnerability. Those qualities make them not only relatable, but real.
There is a moment while wandering through Beijing when they run into one of Xu’s former lovers, who is clearly well off. He invites them in to spend time with him and the woman he’s seeing, though they themselves haven’t even defined their relationship.
It’s an aspect of this style of film we rarely see, allowing us to witness firsthand the emotional walls the characters build and why genuine connection is not only difficult, but rare.
What begins as a fun side venture evolves into an insightful and heartfelt sequence. Rather than existing simply because the characters have nowhere else to go, it becomes an intimate moment that serves a similar dramatic purpose to the bar and diner scenes in Before Sunrise. Here, Xu and Chen share that intimacy alongside other people, revealing their insecurities about one another without ever having to confront them directly.
“Grounded, flawed, and emotionally complete, Zhao’s characters feel genuinely real.”
Meanwhile, Zhao gives his supporting characters identities of their own. Using the brief time we spend with them, he crafts a short story within the larger one, allowing their own conflicts to surface and resolve before Xu and Chen move on. The brilliance lies in how seamlessly this unfolds without pulling attention away from the protagonists. Their stories quietly support the main narrative while telling their own.
The score and cinematography are exceptional throughout, capturing the city, the night, and the emotional connection beautifully.
There is a montage where both reach their peak, showcasing Zhao’s technical ability to build emotional intimacy while giving the film a crisp, cinematic feel.
Beyond those singular moments of bliss, a nightclub sequence features fantastic imagery and a killer score that continues to build the tension and romantic charge between the two leads. It’s phenomenal, only to be topped by a mesmerizing phone booth scene.
Zhao’s vision is crisp, clear, and intentional. From script to screen, he establishes a distinct voice and style in his debut feature. The pacing is impeccable, which is no small feat given the film’s deceptively simple premise. Crafting a character-driven narrative built almost entirely around two people walking through a city over the course of a single night is an enormous challenge.
The fact that Zhao balances romance, drama, comedy, and insightful dialogue so effortlessly makes the achievement even more impressive.
I also love that he references Before Sunrise and Chungking Express, even casually name-dropping Wong Kar-wai in conversation. Those moments never feel like fan service, but natural extensions of the world these characters inhabit.
Sichun Ma and Edward Chen deliver raw, emotional performances that are captivating and wholesome.
Given the emotional demands of their characters, both actors demonstrate remarkable range, moving effortlessly from emotionally vulnerable scenes to moments of charisma and humor.
“Sichun Ma delivers a raw, emotionally captivating performance that feels both lovable and real.”
Sichun Ma, in particular, brings Xu to life. At first glance, she almost feels like a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but she’s far more grounded, flawed, and emotionally complete, with an inner life and emotional journey that exist alongside Chen’s rather than solely serving it. In many ways, she is a Damaged Dream Girl—an emotionally wounded yet deeply lovable woman whose humanity, flaws, and personal growth elevate her beyond fantasy into a fully realized person.
Crossing A Dawn is brilliantly written, confidently directed, and emotionally captivating, anchored by a performance from Sichun Ma that offers a refreshing perspective on the modern female lead.
One of my favorite films of the year!
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