(left) Huang Bo, and (right) Xu Zheng meet up in No Man's Land.

Unfortunately, Pan Xiao’s drive through the Northern China desert becomes a crucible of bad people, bad karma and just plain bad luck. Pan Xiao gets into a conflict with a pair of truck drivers (Wang Shuangbao and Sun Jianmin), which results in a foolhardy case of road rage; has a very unfortunate encounter with Boss’ subordinate Underling (Huang Bo), which sends Pan Xiao into a state of panic; and finally stops at an outpost, only to have the outpost owners try to rip him off because they claim to sell the only gas for the next 400 kilometers. The owners also charge him an exorbitant fee that automatically includes a private dance by the sultry Jiaojiao (Yu Nan), a dance student who’s working there against her will. All this occurs plus the return of Boss, who has unfinished business with Pan Xiao – but by then Pan Xiao is a wreck and has thoroughly received his comeuppance. All he can do now is suck it up, stop the bleeding from that gunshot he took, and somehow become a good guy.

The over-arching story of No Man’s Land involves the poaching of some rare birds by Boss and Underling, but they serve mostly as a MacGuffin. Primarily, the story is about Pan Xiao’s spiraling descent and his change from unrepentant ass to anti-hero. It’s a transformation that’s hard to completely buy, especially given his initial jerky behavior and the script’s lack of psychological underpinning, but Ning Hao sets up the action so well – and makes Pan Xiao so pitiable and pathetic – that it becomes easy to root for him to do right. No Man’s Land uses the rising action to establish Pang Xiao’s character and to sell his personality change, by first showing his bemused disregard for conflict, then his growing paranoia and finally his resigned acceptance of his fate. There are some repetitive moments along the way, but each scene impacts the next cleverly and Ning Hao’s storytelling is strong. The direction and mise-en-scene work as POV, putting the audience into Pan Xiao’s shoes, and the desaturated color landscapes, framed vividly in widescreen, add to the sense of desolation and lawlessness.

Ning Hao also uses exaggeration and absurdities to sell his archly comic genre setting. No Man’s Land isn’t a straight western homage, but one that acknowledges its inspirations while having its own self-amused fun. The trumpet-and-acoustic guitar score adds knowing western atmosphere – even rising to a crescendo as Pan Xiao literally rides to the rescue – while utilizing deadpan wit and a revolving door of clever plot turns to consistently surprise. The actors are cartoonish in appearance but their actual performances are controlled, and nobody does more or less than the film requires. The only false step No Man’s Land makes is its coda, which adds routine closure to one character’s story while implying deeper emotional significance than is required of such a spare, sharp piece of entertainment. The scene does put a more “human” face on the film, but it ultimately feels disingenuous because Ning Hao movies aren’t known for their humanity. Ning’s films are celebrated as whip smart, cleverly crafted genre spins, and No Man’s Land is a more than worthy addition to that fraternity. (Kozo, 9/2015)