 A film in three minutes, Ascension. In 2018, Chinese-American filmmaker Jessica Kingdon set out to make a documentary that explored the paradoxical hyper-capitalist contradictions of China's communist economic miracle. For two years on and off, the director shot footage across 51 locations in the country, exploring every aspect of the monetary production cycle this ravenous system demands. And the end result, 2021's Ascension, will leave you stunned and in awe of its beauty and style, whilst equally terrifying you with its vision of a future not so far away. It's hard to know where to begin when comprehending the overwhelming power Kingdon's film possesses, from her stunning mess en scène and perfectly timed ironic editing approach to the use of numerous fantastical locations that convey deeper sociopolitical truths. This cinematic interpretation of a dystopian techno future that places no value on individual worth will leave you, and I'm not over exaggerating when I say this, quite possibly depressed after your first viewing. In some ways, Ascension's Black Mirror-esque portrayal of modern China acts as a chilling political satire, where the doctrines of Marxist communist ideology are flipped on their head by a rapacious capitalist system whose economic appetite knows no bounds. Almost every aspect of the human experience within this system is shown here as something that can be monetized, from things as simple as how to hug one another or how to smile, becoming the subject of a corporate training seminar. Kingdon and Nathan Trousdale's compositions verge on the sublime, framing this startlingly voracious landscape with a beautiful and ironic juxtaposition that presents the soulless methods by which workers are hired, trained, and assigned job roles as if they were almost art installations. We get a glimpse of the demands put upon such people who are merely trying to survive in this vast omnipresent machine. We are also shown with an almost grotesque comedic delivery just how all-consuming and total this exhausting and dehumanizing way of life is. The world depicted here is one of relentless change, a world of monstrous technology, of colors and light, of smiling faces and signs, of messages about the importance of conformity, about being an enlightened citizen, about the worship of money, about fashions and food, about noise and waste, about progress and the future. But this happy Chinese dream belies something else, buried deep beneath all the wondrous marvels our species has produced. What I sense hiding in the shadows of Kingdon's lens is a devastating condemnation of the human race, a warning about the nature of mankind and the path we are inching towards with our children.