Watching Xương Rồng Đen (Black Cactus) felt like uncovering a hidden gem, a film that has all but disappeared from the digital world, with very little information available online and no easy access compared to its contemporaries in Vietnamese cinema. Its elusive nature made the experience even more significant, as I felt like I was witnessing a forgotten film that was far ahead of its time in many ways.

At its heart, Black Cactus is a poignant love story, but it transcends typical romantic narratives to explore themes of identity, race, and social divisions. Set in a rural Vietnamese village, the film follows a mixed-race boy, the child of his mother’s brief affair with an African American soldier during the Vietnam War. He faces the brutal reality of being an outsider in his own country, existing in a place where racial prejudice is palpable, even as he strives to live a humble, resilient life with his mother and stepfather.

The film introduces a complex love story when the boy falls in love with a beautiful village girl, played by the iconic Việt Trinh. Their relationship blossoms, but soon, the mother of the girl refuses to accept their union, stating that they do not accept “outsiders” in the family. This heartbreaking rejection leads the girl to leave her family and commit to a life with the boy, beginning a journey filled with love, struggle, and sacrifice.

What follows is a bittersweet exploration of survival as the couple begins their life together, facing challenges like crop failures and poverty. As the boy ventures to Saigon seeking work, he encounters the complications of the city, including the advances of an older Vietnamese woman who seeks to use him as a means to escape to America. However, he remains faithful to his wife, who waits anxiously for his return in their village.

Despite its modest production values, with a low budget and occasional clunky execution, Black Cactus is rich in emotional depth. What struck me most, though, was the film’s unapologetic treatment of race and mixed-heritage love in a context where these subjects were taboo. In the 1990s, discussions of race in Vietnam were almost nonexistent, especially concerning mixed-heritage individuals. The film’s portrayal of such a relationship in an earnest and raw way felt revolutionary, giving voice to an overlooked part of the population in Vietnamese cinema.

The central theme of belonging and rejection was particularly poignant. At one point, the boy’s mother casually mentions that his father was a Black American soldier, but the details of their relationship are never fully explored. The film drops this detail almost as an aside, which left me wondering about the darker, unspoken aspects of Vietnam’s wartime history, like the possibility of rape or a forced relationship between the soldier and his mother. This ambiguous reference to the father’s identity, and the passing comment made by the protagonist’s friends asking whether the girl was afraid of being raped by her lover, left me thinking about Vietnam’s complex war-related traumas and the potential of this relationship being more exploitative than romantic. Was it a love affair, or was it another story of wartime violence? The film never elaborates, and though it may be an over-analysis, these nuances hint at the lingering shadows of the Vietnam War.

While Black Cactus is not without its technical flaws (the production values are modest at best, and some scenes feel a bit clunky), its emotional depth more than compensates for its shortcomings. The cinematography in particular is stunning. The framing of shots and the use of natural landscapes are visually captivating, providing a raw yet beautiful representation of rural life. The quiet moments between characters, the sweeping views of the countryside, and the intimate close-ups all contribute to the powerful emotional resonance of the film. The visual storytelling serves to heighten the emotional weight of the narrative, enabling the audience to feel the isolation and struggles of the characters on a visceral level. The way the cinematography captures the simplicity of rural life, with its customs and rituals, adds an extra layer of authenticity and beauty that perfectly complements the film’s poignant themes.

Additionally, one thing that felt especially bold for its time was the portrayal of Blackface in the film. The main actor portraying the boy is not Black, and the final scene where a baby is shown with Blackface makeup raises questions about its controversial depiction. While this was certainly groundbreaking in the 1990s, it would undoubtedly be seen as problematic now, particularly in Western circles where there’s heightened sensitivity around racial representation in film. For a UK audience, especially in the context of modern discussions on racial issues and cultural appropriation, this portrayal would be controversial.

Black Cactus also presents a subtle yet powerful commentary on rural life and Vietnamese culture. The depiction of community rituals, family traditions, and simple rural life offers a refreshing counterpoint to the grittier aspects of the narrative. It provides an intimate glimpse into the everyday lives of Vietnamese people during a time of transformation, a time when the aftershocks of the war were still deeply felt.

Critically, one of the challenges with the film lies in the subtitling. The translations didn’t always reflect the complexities of describing mixed-heritage identity or the racial dynamics at play, likely due to the vocabulary limitations of the time. This was a glaring reminder of how discourse around race has evolved globally, and even within Vietnam itself.

While the technical flaws are apparent, Black Cactus is an important work that has been largely forgotten, but deserves recognition for its boldness. It was a film that dared to question societal norms and tackle themes that were often swept under the rug. In exploring the complexities of mixed-heritage love, familial rejection, and identity, it not only questioned Vietnam’s post-war identity but also opened up a conversation about race, ethnicity, and inclusion that hadn’t existed before.

For me, this film stood as a brave example of how cinema can transcend the norms of its time and offer a voice to those often overlooked. It may not be perfect, but its heart is undeniable, and it remains a testament to the power of storytelling that challenges, critiques, and reshapes cultural narratives.