There are no A-list stars and no dazzling visual effects. Yet a film performed entirely in the Chaoshan (a Southern Chinese) dialect, made on a modest budget of just 14 million yuan ($2 million), has become one of the most remarkable cinematic success stories of the year, transcending borders and language barriers.

Titled Dear You, the film has grossed more than 1.8 billion yuan at the Chinese mainland box office and the number is expected to rise. At the international level, the film also held its market screening during the 79th Cannes Film Festival, attracting the attention of international distributors. The film first showed in Hong Kong on Thursday. Nonetheless, I must say that after watching the trailer, I was not able to wait for its Hong Kong debut, and so I watched the movie in advance in a Shenzhen cinema. Without too many spoilers, I feel impelled to write a review to recommend this movie and hopefully lay the groundwork for an unparalleled cinematic experience.

The power of Dear You begins with its deep respect for authenticity. Before filming, director Lan Hongchun and his team conducted extensive field research, visiting hundreds of overseas Chinese families in Malaysia, Thailand, and other parts of Southeast Asia. The film draws heavily from oral histories collected during those journeys. More than 90 percent of its plot elements can be traced back to real-life experiences.

From a young man’s journey to Southeast Asia in search of lost family ties, to the unexpected discovery of long-hidden letters, to the enduring bond between three generations separated by oceans, the story never relies on manufactured drama. Instead, it unfolds gradually, like a pot of aged tea whose flavor deepens with time.

One viewer wrote online that the film never flaunts cinematic tricks or forces emotional moments upon its audience. “Life itself is like this,” the comment reads. “Before you realize it, you’re already in tears.” In an era dominated by algorithms, formula-driven content, and assembly-line entertainment, audiences are often more discerning than many creators assume. They can tell the difference between stories that emerge organically from lived experience and those engineered inside a writers’ room.

The success of this film proves a simple but important truth: Authenticity, when crafted with heart, possesses a far greater emotional impact than any calculated attempt to manufacture viral moments.

At the heart of the film lies a simple object: the qiaopi. For younger audiences today, the term requires explanation. A qiaopi refers to the remittance letters sent by overseas Chinese migrants to their families back home. The word pi means “letter” in the Chaoshan and Minnan dialects, while qiao indicates overseas. Combining financial remittances with personal correspondence, these letters became lifelines connecting migrants abroad with loved ones at home.

In 2013, the “Qiaopi and Yinxin Correspondence and Remittance Documents from Overseas Chinese” was inscribed on UNESCO’s Memory of the World Register. More than 160,000 surviving documents bear witness to a remarkable chapter in the history of Chinese migration.

For more than a century, countless qiaopi carried stories of separation and reunion, sacrifice, and hope. Now, ... they carry a relay of values and spirit — trust, perseverance, devotion, and the enduring bonds that Chinese people continue to cherish wherever they may be in the world

For nearly a century, the qiaopi system operated largely outside official channels. Its functioning depended on private remittance agencies, itinerant couriers traveling between Southeast Asia and southern China, and local delivery workers who carried letters directly to households. The entire network relied on trust. Once a promise was made, mountains and oceans became no obstacle.

And the film takes this idea of trust to an even deeper level, showcasing this Chinese value shared across humanity.

In the past, Chinese blockbuster movies generally relied on historical epics, martial arts spectacles, or visually striking productions to gain overseas attention. While these genres have achieved commercial success, Dear You suggests a new path. Family drama deeply centered on southern Chinese culture can also be a mega-hit.

Living abroad did not cause them to withdraw into cultural isolation, nor did they forget their roots. For more than a century, countless qiaopi carried stories of separation and reunion, sacrifice, and hope. Now, as those letters journey from museum archives to the silver screen, from Chaoshan to Cannes, and from the mainland to the rest of the world, they carry more than just memories of the past.

They carry a relay of values and spirit — trust, perseverance, devotion, and the enduring bonds that Chinese people continue to cherish wherever they may be in the world. That spirit deserves to be seen by many more people. For Hong Kong, the story on screen carries a particularly intimate resonance, and I recommend it wholeheartedly.

The author is a member of the Legislative Council and the UN Association of China.

The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.