Chapter Dive
Evil Unbound (731): How a Chinese Anti-Japanese War Film Backfired
731 was China’s most anticipated war movie of the year — how could it fail so miserably to live up to public expectations?
Published
8 months agoon
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How did Evil Unbound (731), one of the most anticipated Chinese war movies of 2025, go from patriotic hype to online backlash? A deep dive into the official narrative, the audience reception, and everything that’s particular about this movie.
731 and 918, those were the numbers dominating Chinese social media over the past week. Both numbers carry heavy historical weight, but the recent discussions surrounding them reveal two parallel worlds of the official narrative vs the audience experience of a controversial new World War II film.
It was “9.18” on Thursday, when China commemorated the 94th anniversary of the September 18th Incident (九一八事变). On that day in 1931, a small explosion on a Japanese-owned railway near Shenyang (Mukden) was used as a pretext to invade Manchuria.
While many older Chinese were taught in school that the war began in 1937, recent state-led campaigns increasingly emphasize 1931 as the true beginning of China’s “14-year-long war” (1931–1945). Over the past decade, the 918 commemorations have become more prominent online, shaping public memory through nationalistic messaging.
This year, the commemoration had an extra dimension, as it wove the release of Evil Unbound (English title), also known as 731, into the patriotic media narratives around 918.

Patriotic film poster putting 918 and 731 together.
The much-anticipated war movie 731 depicts the atrocities of Japan’s Unit 731 (731部队), notorious for conducting horrific biological warfare experiments in Harbin during World War II under Major General Shiro Ishii (石井四郎), a former army surgeon and biologist with a particular interest in historical plagues. Under his command, Japan’s biological warfare and human experimentation in China were carried out on a larger scale than anywhere else between the 1930s and 1940s.
After the war, because the US felt his knowledge on bioweapons was of great value, Ishii was granted political immunity deal and was never brought to trial.
Together with the Nanjing Massacre, Unit 731 has come to symbolize the peak horrors of Japan’s wartime atrocities. Public attention for this history has grown in recent years, especially since the 2015 opening of the Harbin-based Museum of Evidence of War Crimes by Unit 731.
It was around that same time, about a decade ago, when Chinese director Zhao Linshan (赵林山) started working on the movie Evil Unbound (731), produced by Changchun Film Group in collaboration with the Propaganda Departments of Shandong, Jilin, Heilongjiang, and Harbin.
It finally premiered nationwide on Thursday, ‘9.18’ at exactly 9:18 and shattered 10 box office records on its opening day. Screened 258,000 times in a single day, it rapidly surpassed 200 million yuan (US$28 million) in ticket sales. After three days, the box office exceeded 1 billion yuan (US$140 million).
The film focuses on Unit 731 in the final days before Japan’s defeat in 1945, portraying how local salesman Wang Yongzhang (王永章, played by Jiang Wu 姜武) is imprisoned together with other civilians. They are promised freedom in exchange for “health checks and epidemic prevention cooperation,” and are subjected to frostbite experiments, poison gas, and vivisections.

Official film posters for Evil Unbound/731.
“What we made is not a movie — it is historical evidence,” director Zhao said about the film.
A state-orchestrated hashtag ecosystem is currently amplifying the film’s ‘success.’ Similar to previous viral war film hits such as The Battle at Lake Changjin (长津湖) and Nanjing Photo Studio (Dead to Rights 南京照相馆), the media campaigns highlight the film’s commercial performance, its educational and historical value, the ‘authenticity’ of its production process, and its emotional reception and overseas recognition.
Recent trending hashtags, from Kuaishou to Weibo and beyond, include:
- 电影731票房再创新高 – “Film 731 sets another box office record”
- 没有人能在看731时不流泪 – “No one can watch 731 without crying”
- 观众掩面哭泣 / 哭到没法接受采访 – “Audiences cover faces in tears” or “Audiences too moved to be interviewed”
- 观众自发起立唱国歌 – “Audience spontaneously stand up to sing national anthem”
- 海外观众看731不停抹泪 – “Overseas audiences weeping when seeing 731”
- 9岁小孩看完731后泪奔 – “9-year-old child burst into tears after watching 731”
- 日本观众看完电影731后情绪崩溃 – “Japanese audiences having emotional breakdown after watching 731”
- 让731这段历史不再沉默 – “The history of 731 can no longer be silenced”
There are hundreds of other hashtags contributing to this official narrative, that portrays Evil Unbound as an absolute patriotic and commercial triumph.
From Anticipation to Backlash: 731 Between Shawshank and Squid Game
Outside of this official narrative, however, audiences are telling a very different story. Despite months of anticipation, the film has been met with overwhelmingly negative reviews.
On Weibo, the hashtag “731 Film Review” (#731影评#) was pulled offline. On Douban, the movie’s ratings meter was switched off entirely (“暂无评分”). On IMDb, the film is currently rated 3.1.
Usually, criticism of patriotic films is a slippery slope. People have been censored, blocked, or even detained for criticizing war films. But criticism of this film is so widespread, and so ubiquitous across social media platforms, that it is barely containable.
Many viewers called the movie “trash,” while others said they felt “defrauded”.[1] One commenter suggested the director tried to make The Shawshank Redemption but ended up with Squid Game.[2] Others called it “bizarre”[3], or concluded: “The short review section doesn’t even allow enough characters to describe how unbearable this movie is.”[4]
Viewing the film, I must admit I also felt confused – the movie is nothing like you would expect after the state-led promotion of the film.
The opening minutes quickly set a messy historical context, leaping from the 1925 Geneva Protocol to China’s 1943 counteroffensives, to Iwo Jima, and to Japan’s “Operation PX” plan (Operation Cherry Blossoms at Night), a scheme to attack the United States with biological weapons—before landing in Harbin and Unit 731 in the year 1945.
About ten minutes in, the movie seems to switch tracks and take inspiration from Squid Game, the 2021 South Korean survival drama.
Some details appear almost one-to-one from the Netflix show: the cold speaker voice, characters labeled by numbers, stylized lighting (including the Japanese flag’s red dot turned into menacing red spotlight), and eerily sterile sets that create a cold, clinical atmosphere stripped of humanity.

Scenes from 731.
Narrative elements also echo Squid Game’s deadly competitions, including an actual life-or-death rope pulling game. In 731, “winners” are promised freedom (but actually sent for experiments) and “losers” surviving slightly longer, until even these rules seemingly disappear, leaving viewers just as lost as the characters.
Beyond these echoes of Squid Game and The Shawshank Redemption (with their themes of prison break, brotherhood, and hope), where horror meets drama and occasionally even comedy, I also thought I saw traces of The Green Mile (there’s even a befriended mouse), The Shining, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and even Kill Bill.
If this all sounds like a fever dream, that’s about right.
While the film undoubtedly has artistic value in its visual references and symbolism, at times it seems more intent on presenting itself as an arthouse production than on telling a coherent historical war story.

731 scene showing Japanese flags with red lasers/spotlights one the left. Some of the movie’s camera angle points, color use, narrative elements and settings show some similarities with Squid Game (image on right).

731 (left), Squid Game (right)

Scene from 731, which I thought sometimes had some echoes from The Shining.

Another reference to Stanley Kubrick? 731 on the left, Clockwork Orange on the right.

Prison mouse friend. 731 (left) and The Green Mile (right).
And that is also what most of the online critique is about – people feel that while the movie is supposed to be about creating awareness of a particularly horrific part of Chinese war history, the actual factual history seems to have ended up in the background.
One commenter from Harbin wrote:[5]
💬 “For Harbin, 731 is the most painful chapter of history. This movie uses a mass of absurd visuals and music to tell a story that has almost nothing to do with real history. All the information that truly should have been shown is brushed over in passing words, and in the end it just tells audiences ‘never forget history’? This tramples on the history of 731. Stupid and vulgar.”
Others are also upset over historical inaccuracies in the film — from the makeup to the sets, the props, and the biological experiments. Even the toilet paper used by the prisoners isn’t very realistic, with some commenters saying these kinds of details ‘drove them crazy’:
💬 “I’m born after 1990, and even I grew up with worse toilet paper than what the aggressors in those years apparently gave to their prisoners. Theirs was so high-quality you could fold it into bows and baby shoes. Must have been strong, durable, and waterproof.”[6]
One other reviewer on Douban wrote:
💬 “As a prison break film it’s not exciting, as a historical film it’s too careless, and as a drama it’s too fragmented.”[7]
Douban reviewer Qingyun (青云) noted that it jumps from relatively calm scenes to intense emotional outbursts or extreme cruelty without any buildup — instead of moving viewers to tears, it alienates them from the story and its characters.
He adds:
💬 “The film wants to exploit history’s seriousness to entertain the public, but also fears the theme is too depressing and will affect the box office, so it stuffs in commercial gimmicks (jokes, fantasy, spectacle). This opportunism sacrifices the solemnity that is rewired for the historical topic, while also failing to provide as qualified entertainment. The result: it offends history and disappoints audiences.”[8]
Most of these disappointed reviewers argued that the chance to tell the story of Unit 731 was wasted by a director and script that offered little context to the subject, with some even suggesting that another, 37-year-old film (Men Behind the Sun, 黑太阳731, 1988) did a better job of conveying the history of Japan’s biological warfare in China.
A ‘Masterful Cult Film,’ But a ‘Total Failure’ as a War Movie
Despite the wave of strongly negative feedback, there are also those who did find the film moving, giving it five-star reviews — some from those who stress the film’s value as a reminder to “never forget national humiliation,” while others genuinely appreciate its creative vision.
Douban commenter ‘Bat Lord’ (蝙蝠君) called it a “masterful cult film” with the film’s aesthetics being “built on a foundation of Western stereotypical Orientalism of Japan and layered with Christian martyrdom.”[9]
As an example, Bat Lord describes a recurring scene in which prisoners are taken from their cells toward “freedom,” only to be taken to lethal human experiments. They are escorted by Japanese guards in traditional kimonos with samurai swords, led by a geisha carrying a bright red umbrella and wearing impossibly high okobo clogs, followed by Edo-period guards with topknots and white kimono. Bat Lord calls it “Orientalist punk seen through a Western gaze” (“有一种西方视角的东方主义朋克的味道”).
The reviewer also interprets the main characters, the Chinese prisoners, as representations of Christian martyrdom. Cross symbols are indeed everywhere in the film, with prisoner No. 017 constantly drawing crosses on the wall, and an ingenious escape plan hidden in a dictionary as a series of crosses.
At the climax, after battling guards in kimonos with wooden swords, the prisoners flee toward a crematorium resembling a cathedral of light, where crosses formed from pure white beams symbolize freedom. But behind the cross loom the Japanese executioners. After a bloody massacre, the survivors are captured and executed — tied to crosses arranged around a pit, with fleas dropped on them from above as Japanese officers watch from a grandstand.

Cross symbols appear throughout the film.
💬 “It’s clearly a direct homage to Christian martyrs who were sacrificed in the Colosseum during the ancient Roman Empire. In the end, all the protagonists die martyrs’ deaths,” Bat Lord writes.[10]
He concludes that the film is “4/5 as an art house film, but zero points as a war movie”:
💬 “As a mainstream patriotic commercial blockbuster, it is a complete and utter failure (..) But as a niche cult prank film, it actually has some positive points (…) – built on exaggerated Orientalist visions of Japan, it feels strangely authentic. This kind of deconstruction of Japanese culture isn’t something the Japanese themselves could do — only the West or China, as seen in works like The Last Samurai, Ghost of Tsushima, and Shogun.” [11]
He adds:
💬 “The biggest problem is the subject matter. Using 731 — such a solemn, tragic history — only to hollow out its pain, exploit national emotions, and repackage it as a cult prank film disguised as a patriotic blockbuster, inevitably backfires. If it had been framed as a semi-fictional low-budget black comedy, the backlash wouldn’t be so severe.”[12]
“No Japanese in Heaven”: Over-‘Othering’ the Enemy
How could 731 have failed so miserably to live up to public expectations?
In recent years, Chinese museums, books, and popular culture have made many attempts to revitalize the history of war and make it more relevant to younger generations. In many cases, this has been successful, from popular war dramas to blockbuster films.
But Unit 731 is perhaps an especially difficult subject to adapt into a commercially successful film for a broad audience, especially since it chose to leave out the kind of contextualization that Oppenheimer provided in exploring the history, process, and character development that led to the atomic bomb.
Like the gas chambers of Auschwitz or Mengele’s brutal experiments, its history is so gruesome that there is little to focus on beyond the suffering of the victims and the cruelty of the perpetrators. (The film had already been postponed once, as it allegedly failed to pass official screenings due to its graphic scenes.)
War films in China are expected to reflect — or help shape — national identity. In 731, this means boosting national unity by focusing on Japan as the ultimate “Other,” the ‘constructed outsider’ against which the own national identity is defined.
The entire nation is cast as an enemy, depicted through exaggerated cultural symbols — geishas, kimonos, samurai, and cherry blossoms — regardless of whether they belonged in the actual prison setting. Japan’s national colors and imagery are fused with scenes of bloody and barbaric slaughter, turning Japanese cultural identity itself into a target.

References to Japanese cultural symbols in the film.
In doing so, the film not only holds Japan as a whole responsible for its wartime aggression, but also strengthens Chinese identity by defining it in opposition to Japan, visually contrasting “good” versus “evil” through opposing characters, colors, and symbols.

Clear visual symbols: dead Chinese bodies covered in white dust. With the red circle of blood, the scene resembles a Japanese flag.
This contrast is also made explicit in dialogue: at the beginning of the film, for instance, a young boy enters the stark white prison halls and asks, “Master, are we in heaven?” to which the older Chinese man replies, “Nonsense, how could there be Japanese in heaven?”
In promoting the film, director Zhao Linshan (赵林山) reinforced the image of Japan as the eternal “Other” by explaining that he had insisted none of the Japanese roles could have possibly played by Chinese actors, suggesting they would not be able to convey their evilness. Despite the difficulty of bringing over more than 80 Japanese actors during China’s ‘zero Covid’ era, when 731 was largely filmed, Zhao maintained that “only the Japanese can play this dual nature.”
While Chinese social media is often filled with anti-Japanese sentiment, many viewers criticized the depiction of “Japan” and the Unit 731 staff — not because of the anti-Japanese angle, but because they felt it trivialized history. They argued that Unit 731 was already so horrific that it needed no added gimmicks, tropes, or exaggerated villains to make it look bad.
As Douban reviewer Qingyun wrote:
💬 “Portraying devils as clowns diminishes their true guilt. The real criminals were rational, organized, and intelligent, embodying the will of Japanese militarism as a systematic project. Making them idiots (..) greatly underestimates the danger and organization of militarism, and is a severe simplification of history.”[13]
This critique goes further, suggesting the film both weakens its warning value (“the true terror is that advanced civilization and barbarism can coexist”) and cheapens the victims’ suffering (“if the enemy is so stupid, the tragedy seems less grave”).
On Weibo, one commenter criticized this one-sided approach:
💬 “I saw an auntie in Hangzhou who, after watching the movie 731, said she hated the Japanese devils so much — that she would hate them for her entire life. But this elderly woman, brainwashed by hatred education for a lifetime, doesn’t stop to think that (..) so many other brutal slaughters happened throughout Chinese history. If you only speak of hate, can your hate keep up with all of them? Shouldn’t we instead explore and reflect more deeply on the underlying causes of these events? Better to talk less of hate and more of love — because only the most genuine love from the depths of the human heart can ultimately prevent such tragedies from happening again.”[14]
Some viewers who appreciated the film, however, disagreed. One Weibo user wrote: “I watched the film with my husband and on our way home we scolded the Japanese, wishing we could throw two more atomic bombs on them. It was a good film.”
Between the history and the hate, the official narrative, the polarized audience reactions, and disagreements over the film’s message, 731 has brought more controversy than clarity.
But beyond the debate and confusion, one message remains clear. As one viewer wrote:
“The film wasn’t what I expected, but I’m not sure what I even expected? A good story? More like a documentary? There’s one thing I can say for sure: this movie is just a shell — the history itself is the soul.”[15]
By Manya Koetse
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References
- “看完有种被诈骗的感觉” (source: Douban).
- “一句话评价《731》,导演按照《肖申克的救赎》拍出了《鱿鱼游戏》” (source: Xiaohongshu).
- “令人非常迷惑” (source: Douban).
- “短评骂的字数不够了实在是忍不了了” (source: Douban).
- “作为一个哈尔滨人,去过至少三次纪念馆,731对于哈尔滨就是最沉痛的一段历史,这个电影用大量极其荒诞的镜头和音乐,讲述一个基本跟真实历史毫无关系的故事,所有真正需要拍出来的信息全部是文字一笔带过,最后却告诉观众勿忘历史?这是对731这段历史的践踏。弱智且下流” (Source: comment section Sina).
- “作为一个90后,我出生的那个年代卫生纸质量都达不到侵略者给实验体使用的,纸的质量太好了,又是编蝴蝶结,又是编鞋子的,我猜应该是坚韧又耐用,透水都不断的那种吧” (Source: Douban long reviews).
- “或许是删减太多或许是各种局限,当做越狱不精彩,当做历史片太随意,当做剧情片太碎片”(Source: Douban).
- “影片既想利用沉重历史的严肃性作为宣传噱头,又担心题材过于压抑影响票房,于是强行注入商业娱乐元素(搞笑、幻想、刺激场面)。这种“既要…又要…”的投机心态导致影片既失去了历史题材必需的敬畏感,又未能提供合格的娱乐体验。最终,它既冒犯了历史,也辜负了观众”(Source Douban, review by Qingyun (青云).
- “西方刻板印象东方主义日本与基督殉难的碰撞,cult片的杰出之作”(Source: Douban, review by ‘Bat Lord’ (蝙蝠君).
- “很明显也在致敬古罗马帝国时期殉道在斗兽场的圣徒们。最终主角团全员殉道,无一幸免。”
- “这个片作为主流主旋律商业大片是完全的,彻头彻尾的失败,彷佛那纯纯的依托!甚至从预告片开始这电影就没有任何一丝一毫的符合历史,我从一开始就完全没有抱任何期望的去看,结果发现这片作为小众邪典整蛊片却颇有可取之处(。。)当你不认为这片是正常电影之后,这片表达出的那股子真的是超正宗的外国视角下的刻板印象东方主义日本美学、东方朋克味,这种对日本文化的魔怔向的解构其实我个人还真感觉挺不错的。这种解构日本人是搞不出来的,目前只有欧美和中国能搞出来,代表作就是《最后的武士》、《对马岛》、《幕府将军》之类的作品,里面的日本文化,日本武士道精神一个赛一个魔怔,欧美是往骑士幻想的那个路子去走的,我们是往黑暗邪典的路子去走的“
- “所以这片的最大问题还是选择了731这个严肃题材,完全在消解历史的悲痛,消费民族的情感,拍了个小众邪典整蛊片后,还按照主流商业片来包装和宣发,如果他拍成半架空的超小成本黑色喜剧我觉得反噬恐怕不会有这么大”(Source: Douban).
- “它美化了真正的邪恶:将恶魔塑造成小丑,实际上减轻了他们的罪责。真实的731部队不是一群疯癫的傻瓜,而是清醒的、有组织的、高智商的罪犯。他们的行为是日本军国主义国家意志的体现,是一个系统性的工程。把他们拍得弱智,仿佛这场悲剧只是一群笨蛋造成的意外,这极大地低估了军国主义的危害性和组织性,是对历史的严重简化”(source: Douban).
- “看到一位杭州阿姨看完电影731后讲太恨日本鬼子了,要一辈子一辈子的恨。这个被仇恨教育洗脑一辈子的老太太,您也不思考一下,嘉定三屠,江东六十四屯,南京大屠杀等等一系列的野蛮屠杀事件在中国历史上发生的太多了,光讲恨您恨的过来吗?不应该是更多的探究和反省发生这些事的深层原因嘛!还是少谈恨多讲爱吧,只有发自心底人类最真实的爱才能最后解决这些惨案在人类世界的发生吧”(Source: Weibo).
- Weibo user “红屋顶上的猫”: “我不知道该怎么评。首先在这个忙乱的日子里安排自己去看这个电影,我也说不清楚我是想铭记那段历史,还是想比较小时候看过的《荒原城堡731》,还有那部《黑太阳》。其次我也不知道电影从越狱视角切入,写实和魔幻风格交替,是好还是不好?但它和我想象的不一样,可我也不知道自己想看到的到底是什么样?甚至我也说不清我对这场电影的期待是什么?讲好故事?还是拍成纪录片?我只能确定,电影只是个壳子,那段历史才是灵魂。”
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Manya Koetse is a sinologist, writer, and public speaker specializing in China’s social trends, digital culture, and online media ecosystems. She founded What’s on Weibo in 2013 and now runs the Eye on Digital China newsletter. Learn more at manyakoetse.com or follow her on X, Instagram, or LinkedIn.
Chapter Dive
My Mum Has Two Husbands: The OPPO Mother’s Day Fiasco and 7 Other Gender Marketing Fails in China
Inside OPPO’s Mother’s Day PR fiasco and other failed marketing campaigns in China’s gender minefield
Published
4 days agoon
May 12, 2026
The backlash to OPPO’s Mother’s Day ad came from multiple directions, from grassroots netizens to official organizations. Here’s a closer look at the controversy, along with 7 other cases that show how gender-related marketing has become a recurring minefield for brands in China.
Mother’s Day is over, but OPPO is still recovering. The Chinese smartphone brand went viral over the weekend for a Mother’s Day marketing campaign that failed spectacularly. In the campaign, OPPO used the slogan: “My mom has two ‘husbands.’”
The accompanying text read:
“My mom has two ‘husbands.’ One is my dad, and the other one she sees twice a year. She barely dresses up for dates with my dad, but when she sees the other one, she’d wear a wedding dress if she could.” (“我妈有两个‘老公’,一个是我爸,另一个一年见两回。跟我爸约会基本不打扮,见另一个,她恨不得穿婚纱。”)

The OPPO ad was published online on May 8, 2026.
With this ad, OPPO was likely trying to tap into digital culture and resonate with younger consumers by using online slang.
In Chinese fandom subcultures, female fans sometimes refer to their idols as their “husband” (老公, lǎogōng) to express their devotion. It is part of a broader online joke, with some fans even incorporating life-size cardboard cutouts of their favorite celebrities into their weddings.

The phrase “real husband” (真老公) gained wider mainstream attention in late 2025 after a young Chinese bride unexpectedly ran into rapper and singer Jackson Wang on her wedding day and posted:
💬 “Who understands this? I met my real husband on my wedding day!” (“谁懂啊!婚礼当天遇到了真老公!!”)

The ‘real husband’ post that went viral in late 2025 and early 2026.
Although some commenters found it funny, the bride was heavily criticized for publicly calling a celebrity her “real husband” on her wedding day, using the same word (老公) that refers to her literal spouse, as if she were placing her idol above her actual groom.
💬 “This makes it seem as though she does not truly regard the man she is legally marrying as her husband at all,” one among many commenters wrote.
While OPPO was probably aiming for a tongue-in-cheek campaign featuring an energetic and youthful mother who adores her idol, the company appears to have badly misread the room.
After the ad was posted on Weibo and other social media channels ahead of Mother’s Day, backlash quickly followed.
Many netizens were confused and did not understand the reference to fan culture. Some said they were simply “baffled” by what they saw as an inappropriate message suggesting that mom was cheating—and on Mother’s Day, no less!
💬 “Without reading the comments, I thought the ad was saying the mother was cheating and didn’t love her husband, but had a side lover she was crazy about,” one Xiaohongshu commenter wrote.
Others asked whether the creators would have been willing to run a similar Father’s Day campaign with the line: “My dad has two wives.”
Fan culture remains far removed from the everyday experience of many ordinary Chinese netizens, creating not just a gender divide but also a generational and social one.
Even when people understand that an “idol husband” is purely fictional, the term 老公 (lǎogōng) still carries the literal meaning of “husband” and implies emotional devotion to someone outside the marriage. For some, that feels disrespectful.
Many also questioned the contrast at the heart of the campaign: why does mum barely dress up for dates with her husband, yet would supposedly wear a wedding dress to see a celebrity?
Others believe celebrity fandom in China has already gone too far, and felt that using this language in a mainstream advertising campaign was especially misplaced.
As one marketing commentator on Xiaohongshu Cathy聊品牌热点) put it, OPPO had managed to offend almost every relevant audience: male consumers who saw the ad as disrespectful to husbands, fandom communities who did not want their inside jokes dragged into mainstream advertising, women who support gender equality, and many others who hold strong views about traditional family values.
Emotional Infidelity as a Form of Female Self-Expression
The brand quickly took the campaign offline and apologized. But in their initial apology post, OPPO explained that it had merely intended to challenge gender stereotypes and present a “more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers,” women who can enjoy celebrity fandoms and pursue hobbies beyond their roles as wives and mothers.
OPPO’s first apology: “Our original intention was to break stereotypes and present a more diverse and multi-dimensional image of today’s mothers.”
That explanation sparked another wave of criticism, with many arguing that OPPO had completely missed the point. Few people objected to the idea that mothers can have celebrity idols or personal passions. What many found problematic was the suggestion of romantic involvement outside the marriage.
One Weibo commenter (@甲申鬼友), who called the entire episode a “PR disaster”, suggested that the problem was that OPPO framed emotional infidelity as a form of female self-expression.
They wrote:
💬 “The controversial slogan “My mom has two husbands” was not about challenging stereotypes about mothers. Instead, it glorified the tacky behavior of a married woman calling a celebrity “husband” and wanting to wear a wedding dress to see him, presenting it as a form of female self-expression. Implicitly, it suggested that a real husband should unconditionally accept his wife’s “emotional infidelity.” (…). The message conveyed by the campaign was clear enough: it alienated men and mothers who still value loyalty and commitment in relationships.”
It soon became clear that OPPO’s handling of the issue was turning into a bigger problem than the ad itself.
As netizens continued to criticize the campaign, the controversy was amplified by blogs, mainstream media, and state-affiliated organizations.
The China Advertising Association (CAA), the country’s leading advertising body operating under state supervision, weighed in, along with the All-China Women’s Federation (ACWF), China’s main state-linked women’s organization.
Both organizations echoed familiar Party messaging, criticizing marketing that crosses the boundaries of public morality, deviates from core socialist values, violates traditional family ethics, or “misleads the public, especially young people, about social values.”
As the controversy escalated, attention also turned to OPPO’s China region brand strategy director, Yu Siyue (余思月), a graduate of Wuhan University’s School of Chinese Language and Literature.
The university itself then entered the discussion by posting a statement on Weibo saying it was “shocked” by the campaign. It said it “strongly disagrees with the content (..) and the values conveyed,” distancing itself from both the campaign and its alumna. (In a detail I found unintentionally amusing, the statement also noted that Yu had once been praised for helping an elderly passenger on a bus.)
Wuhan University itself was also criticized for inserting itself into a controversy that had little to do with the university. Chinese media outlet Yicai asked: “Who forced Wuhan University into this disastrous move?” Even political commentator Hu Xijin called the statement an overreaction and a sign of “public opinion anxiety syndrome” (舆情焦虑症).
In the end, OPPO apologizedc a second time on Monday, this time stating that both the campaign and its initial response reflected serious shortcomings in the company’s values and judgment. The company said it had lost sight of “upholding the boundaries of China’s core socialist values.”
OPPO said the incident had led to disciplinary measures against those responsible, and the company promised it would ensure that future campaigns better align with “mainstream values.”
Lessons to Be Learned
There are a few things to be learned from OPPO’s PR nightmare:
🔍 1. Marketing fails are often about the response
Once a marketing controversy breaks out, the company’s response often matters more than the original mistake. If the response fails to address the actual criticism, the fallout can become much worse than the initial problem.
🔍 2. In China, PR controversies quickly become political issues
In China, public relations is inherently political. What begins as criticism from netizens can quickly be amplified by state media and official organizations. In the process, a relatively minor marketing controversy can be reframed as a broader debate about morality and family values. Once that happens, the issue is no longer just about a poorly judged advertisement but becomes a tool for boosting official narratives and reinforcing broader Party priorities.
🔍 3. In China’s cancel culture, everyone rushes to distance themselves
Chinese online backlash can be intense and unforgiving. Once a controversy takes off, everyone rushes to distance themselves from it. The fact that OPPO’s brand director became a target, and that even Wuhan University felt compelled to issue a public statement, illustrates this dynamic. At the same time, such overreactions can backfire, especially when an organization emphasizes that it is “not involved” by publicly engaging in the controversy. Sometimes, silence really is golden.
🔍 4. Gender-related marketing in China is a minefield
This episode is another reminder of how difficult it can be for brands to engage with gender-related themes in China. Companies eager to appear youthful and relatable may underestimate just how sensitive these issues are, and how quickly a seemingly playful campaign can turn into a major controversy.
Not Just OPPO: When Gender-Related Marketing Goes Wrong
OPPO is far from alone.
In recent years, language, jokes, and messaging related to gender, feminism, and male-female relationships have become some of the most sensitive issues in Chinese advertising.
In a rapidly changing China, gender roles are evolving, identities are shifting, and ideas about what is considered feminine or masculine are increasingly contested.
Expectations around what female consumers want and what male consumers value are also in flux. Younger and older generations, and especially male and female netizens, often disagree about what is socially acceptable amid women’s growing assertiveness, persistent patriarchal attitudes, and changing global trends.
For advertisers and creative directors, this creates a particularly difficult environment. Brands are trying to tap into consumers’ purchasing power and keep up with shifting social norms, while also staying within the bounds of official values and political priorities. As a result, it is easy to misread the mood and miss the mark.
Campaigns can inadvertently reinforce traditional gender hierarchies, sexualize women, portray men in ways that spark backlash, or rely on outdated stereotypes.
And, as the OPPO case shows, even campaigns that genuinely aim to challenge stereotypes can end up provoking criticism instead.
Below are seven other examples of brand campaigns in China that backfired over the past decade.
💥 #1 Blue Moon: Mother’s Day Marketing Backfires
Marketing campaign (2024): “Let Mom Do the Laundry More Easily”
Main problem: Reinforcing outdated gender stereotypes

China’s household cleaning giant Blue Moon (蓝月亮) also found itself at the center of a marketing controversy after a 2024 Mother’s Day elevator ad campaign promoting its premium laundry detergent with the slogans “Let mom do the laundry more easily” (“让妈妈洗衣更轻松”) and “Mom, you use it first” (“妈妈您先用”).
Many users objected to the message, arguing that it portrayed doing laundry as something that naturally belongs to mothers and reinforced traditional gender stereotypes. As part of a Mother’s Day campaign, critics said the messaging was particularly inappropriate.
As in OPPO’s case, Blue Moon’s crisis management made matters worse. The company’s initial response suggested the controversy was merely a “misunderstanding” and said the campaign was intended to express gratitude to mothers. Many netizens disagreed, arguing that Mother’s Day and mothers doing the laundry had nothing to do with each other.
💥 #2 Fuyanjie: “Too Dark and Stinky”
Marketing campaign (2022): “83% of men are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky”
Main problem: Straightforwardly sexist

In 2022, the well-known Chinese feminine hygiene brand Fuyanjie (妇炎洁) promoted a pink-colored intimate wash by claiming that “surveys show that 83% of men from South Korea, Japan, and China are unwilling to go down on their partner because it’s too dark and stinky” (“中日韩三国社会调查显示:83%的男性不愿意给伴侣口爱的原因竟然是太黑太难闻下不去嘴”).
Besides promising to make the genital area pinker, the campaign also suggested that hyperpigmentation could be caused by wearing tight pants and having too much sex.
The brand drew widespread criticism for being vulgar, insulting to women, and completely unscientific. Some netizens suggested that the ad makers should focus on turning their own penises pink instead.
Fuyanjie apologized and took both the campaign and the product offline.
(Remarkably, this was the brand’s second major controversy. In 2016, one of its intimate wash products carried the slogan: “I can’t wash away your past, but I can wash your future clean” (“我不能洗掉你的过去,但我能洗干净你的未来”), a line widely criticized as slut-shaming.)
💥 #3 Coconut Palm: Big Boobs, Short Skirts, and a Marketing Strategy Built on Controversy
Marketing campaign (2022): Busty women in tight tops and shorts dancing on livestream
Main problem: Objectification of women & crossing official lines

During China’s National Day holiday in the 2022 Covid & livestream year, Chinese coconut drink brand Coconut Palm (椰树椰汁) found itself at the center of controversy over a series of promotional streams on Douyin.
The company had already been fined twice by authorities for advertisements and packaging suggesting that drinking Coconut Palm could promote breast enlargement.
The 2022 livestreams featured several attractive, busty women in tight tops and short shorts dancing in front of the camera. The broadcasts drew even more attention when they were repeatedly interrupted and cut off by the platform.
There was little new about the campaign. Coconut Palm’s marketing has revolved around voluptuous women and sexually suggestive slogans for more than 25 years.
One of the company’s most famous slogans was “I’ve been drinking it since I was little” (“我从小喝到大”). While literally meaning “I’ve been drinking it since childhood,” the phrase can also be interpreted as “I grew big [breasts] by drinking it.”
The livestreams reignited debate on Chinese social media about the objectification of women in advertising and online culture. Coconut Palm is the only example on this list where controversy appears to be a core part of the brand’s marketing strategy. And while regulators have repeatedly taken issue with its approach, many consumers seem to appreciate the brand precisely for its refusal to change.
💥 #4 Ubras: “Underwear That Helps Women Win in the Workplace”
 
Marketing campaign (2021): Underwear so comfortable that it can “help women lie down and win in the workplace”
Main problem: Sexist and offensive

Popular talk show host and comedian Li Dan (李诞) sparked controversy on Chinese social media in 2021 over a promotional slogan for the Chinese women’s underwear brand Ubras. Their slogan (“让女性轻松躺赢职场”) can be loosely translated as “make it easy for women to win in the workplace lying down.”
The phrase was widely interpreted as suggesting that women could use their bodies or sexuality to gain an advantage at work. According to the brand, the intended message was simply that Ubras bras are so comfortable that women could “lie down and win.” The full slogan was: “一个让女性躺赢职场的装备” — “equipment that helps women lie down and win in the workplace.”
Many people felt it was inappropriate not only for a male celebrity to promote women’s underwear, but also for the campaign to draw a connection between lingerie and workplace success.
Ubras and Li Dan both apologized for the “inappropriate wording,” and all related promotional content was removed.
💥 #5 Intel: When a Brand Ambassador Becomes the Controversy
 
Marketing campaign (2021): “Intel’s standards are even higher than mine when choosing a partner”
Main problem: Caught in China’s gender wars

Tech company Intel sparked controversy in 2021 by appointing Chinese comedian Yang Li (杨笠) as a brand ambassador in China. Yang Li had become a polarizing figure because of her jokes about men, including her famous line: “Men are adorable, but mysterious. After all, they can look so average and yet be so full of confidence.”
In Intel’s campaign, Yang said: “Intel’s standards are so high — even higher than mine when choosing a partner.” (“英特尔的眼光太高了,比我挑对象的眼光都高。”)
The line itself was relatively harmless. What triggered the backlash was Yang’s public persona.
Some male netizens accused Yang of being sexist and argued that Intel, a company selling laptops and computer chips, should not be represented by a comedian known for mocking men — especially when men were seen as a key target audience.
Intel subsequently deleted the advertisement from its social media channels and ended its collaboration with Yang Li.
That decision, however, sparked a second wave of criticism. Many female netizens accused Intel of caving to online pressure and asked what had happened to the company’s commitment to diversity and inclusion. Others mocked Intel for changing its marketing strategy to appease China’s “ordinary yet confident” men.
💥 #6 Juewei Duck Neck: “Tender, Juicy — Want Some?”
 
Marketing campaign (2017): Sexually suggestive Singles’ Day poster
Main problem: Vulgar and objectifying

Ahead of the 2017 Singles’ Day shopping festival, Chinese snack chain Juewei Duck Neck (绝味鸭脖), one of China’s largest duck neck and marinated meat brands, published a promotional poster on its Tmall store showing a cartoon woman in short shorts lying on a bed with chains around her ankles and her legs spread apart, with one of the company’s products placed in front of her.
The slogan read: “Tender, juicy — want some?” (“鲜嫩多汁,想要吗”). The sexually suggestive image triggered immediate controversy and widespread criticism.
Juewei Duck Neck later issued a nationwide apology, and both the company and the advertising agency responsible for the campaign were fined 600,000 yuan (approximately US$88,000) each.
💥 #7 IKEA: “If You Don’t Bring Back a Boyfriend, Don’t Call Me Mom”
Marketing campaign (2017): Turning parental pressure to marry into a lifestyle ad Main problem: Reinforcing social pressure on unmarried women

A 30-second IKEA commercial sparked controversy in China in 2017 for portraying parental pressure on an unmarried daughter to find a boyfriend.
In the ad, a mother tells her daughter at the dinner table: “If you don’t bring back a boyfriend next time, then don’t call me Mom.” (“再不带男朋友回来,就别叫我妈,”)
The doorbell then rings, and a young man holding flowers appears. The parents immediately brighten, make the living room more welcoming, and set out IKEA tableware for a celebratory meal. The tagline reads: “Celebrate everyday life easily” (“轻松庆祝每一天”).
The ad drew widespread criticism, especially because it aired at a time when many women in China were pushing back against intense social pressure to marry by a certain age. Critics argued that IKEA was trivializing this while reinforcing outdated expectations about marriage and filial duty.
IKEA apologized and removed the commercial.\
Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access.
Chapter Dive
Beyond the “Ching Chong” Controversy: The “Pocket Asian” in The Devil Wears Prada 2
How a niche online debate was amplified into a global “racism” story, and why the real discussion runs deeper
Published
3 weeks agoon
April 26, 2026
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is one of the major blockbusters of China’s popular May Day movie season. However, among Chinese audiences, discussions surrounding the Hollywood film have shifted from “Runway” to “racism”. What’s behind the controversy?
It’s almost the May Day holiday, and seventeen films are lined up for one of the most important box office moments of the year in China. One of them, the only major Hollywood film, is the American movie The Devil Wears Prada 2, the long-awaited sequel to the 2006 blockbuster starring Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep.
Both actresses visited Shanghai for the film’s China premiere earlier this month, where attendees were shown the first 20 minutes. Early reactions were positive, online fans were enthusiastic, and all signs pointed to a strong box office run.
But that seemed to change this week as the film began facing online backlash. Reports emerged describing it as “racist” and “offensive” in China, focusing on the role played by Chinese American actress Helen J. Shen—namely, the new geeky office assistant, ‘Jin Chao.’
By now, the story of the film drawing “furious reactions” or even “facing a boycott” in China has been picked up by dozens of global media outlets, from The Guardian to the Global Times.

Collection of headlines about the backlash
But how big is the controversy, really?
Let’s first look at the story behind these headlines before diving into the bigger context.
From Niche Discussion to Global “Backlash”
Media reports about The Devil Wears Prada 2 facing backlash in China began circulating around April 17–18, when a promotional clip of the film was officially released, introducing the Asian or Chinese American assistant to Anne Hathaway’s character Andy.

In the clip, the petite and somewhat socially awkward young woman introduces herself as ‘Jin Chao’ and lists her academic credentials, including graduating from Yale with a high grade point average.
One of the earliest reports claiming there was major backlash came from entertainment blogger Mengshen Mumu (萌神木木), published on QQ News on April 18 under the headline: “The Devil Wears Prada 2 embroiled in anti-China controversy! Asian character portrayed stereotypically, name seen as deliberately offensive.”1
China.com republished the same blog under the title “The Devil Wears Prada 2 Asian controversy: stereotypical portrayal sparks public outrage.”2
The article claimed the movie was sparking backlash and calls for a boycott among “netizens” (网友), focusing on the character’s nerdy portrayal and her name, rendered as “Qin Chao” or “Qin Zhou” (秦舟). According to the author, its English pronunciation closely resembled “Ching Chong,” a historically racist term used to mock Chinese people.
It concludes: “At present, the film’s reputation appears to be on shaky ground, and its box office prospects in China may not be promising.”
Notably, the only evidence cited for this supposedly widespread backlash consists of a few screenshots of comments made by Douban users in a discussion group about the film.
That discussion—now private and inaccessible—appears to have been the basis not only for this article, but also for many of the Chinese, Korean, and international reports that followed, as they all trace back to the same China.com source.
This context matters. It suggests that the “backlash” was less organic than portrayed, and that media amplification played a significant role in turning a niche discussion—one that did not trend on major platforms like Weibo—into a narrative of nationwide outrage. That narrative was then picked up by international media and presented as the mainstream view of Chinese audiences.
Earlier, the same source published another article hyping a separate controversy surrounding The Devil Wears Prada 2, this time involving a pair of embroidered shoes gifted to the cast at the Seoul premiere. The piece suggested the design was traditionally Chinese and should not be labeled as Korean, accusing Korea of cultural appropriation. Although this gift had nothing to do with the movie itself, it was dragged into the film’s potential box-office success, creating a storm in a teacup because controversial topics do well in terms of clicks.
Beyond the media’s role in fueling the current “Ching Chong” storm, there are other factors that help explain why this issue remained relatively limited before being amplified.
👉 The name itself is not necessarily offensive.
There is considerable confusion over the character’s name, which plays a key role in the controversy due to its alleged discriminatory connotations.
The Chinese subtitles render the name as Qin Zhou (秦舟), while in the scene it sounds more like ‘Jin Zhao,’ and the role is listed on IMDb as ‘Jin Chao.’ Others have suggested it sounds like ‘Chin Chou,’ which could resemble “Ching Chong.”
One of Weibo’s most influential movie-related accounts (@格兰芬多公共休息室) addressed the issue on April 19 by directly contacting the film’s translation team. According to their report, the correct name is ‘Jin Zhao,’ and the rendering as Qin Zhou (秦舟) appears to be a translation error.
In Chinese naming conventions, the family name comes first, meaning ‘Jin Zhao’ would be written as Zhao Jin (赵瑾)—a fairly standard and unremarkable name.
👉 Many Chinese would not immediately link this name to an offensive slur.
Not only is the character not actually named “ching chong,” the term itself originates as a mocking imitation of Chinese languages within an English-speaking context.
Although in today’s global media environment, many Chinese audiences are aware of the term, it is primarily understood as a form of English-language racism directed at Chinese-speaking people by outsiders, not as something rooted within Chinese linguistic or cultural contexts.
Interestingly, while English-language media reports suggest Chinese audiences are outraged, some Chinese commentators argue that much of the anger is actually coming from Korean and other international internet users. Chinese outlet Guancha even reported—in a now-deleted post—that the controversy itself was largely driven from outside China.
All of this has led to a situation where, despite a week of headlines describing “waves of netizen anger” and “boycotts sweeping the internet,” the “Ching Chong controversy” itself has not, at the time of writing, generated widespread outrage across Chinese social media platforms. Many related posts have received minimal engagement.
Although many viewers agree that the screenwriters might have chosen a more flattering name than Jin Chao or Jin Zhao, there is little to suggest this was deliberately intended as offensive, nor that it was widely interpreted as such by Chinese audiences.
The “Pocket Asian” Problem
However, this initial controversy has prompted many Chinese commenters to look beyond the name and focus on what they see as the real issue with Jin Zhao’s character. In the run-up to the film’s release, these discussions have been gaining traction online.
One Weibo commenter wrote:
💬 “Even if ‘Jin Chao’ and ‘Ching Chong’ don’t sound exactly the same, this Asian character’s portrayal really couldn’t be more outdated… it feels like the director has never seen what real Asian interns in the fashion industry are actually like.”

Another post asking users how they felt about the controversy received thousands of likes, with many commenters expressing disappointment over how the film’s most visible Asian character is portrayed.
This criticism seems to be widely shared. In a fashion-focused film, Jin Zhao stands out as the least fashionable—wearing a plaid shirt and skirt, hair pinned up, thick glasses—making her appear almost like a caricature among the surrounding “urban sophisticates.” For many viewers, this feels like a familiar stereotype that does not reflect the reality of today’s trendy Gen Z city girls.
A recurring sentiment is that while Hollywood—and companies like Disney, the film’s distributor—relies heavily on the Chinese market, Chinese audiences themselves feel they are not being taken seriously.
On April 22, Weibo author Jokielicious published a post (now with over 9,600 likes, 257 comments, and 773 shares) explaining the concept of the “Pocket Asian” (口袋亚洲人), an online slang term that has circulated for some time.
It refers to a type of physically small, non-threatening Asian character often seen on Western social media, where people jokingly describe Asian friends as “small enough to fit in your pocket.”
According to the author, this “Pocket Asian” is also a recurring figure in Hollywood films: typically subordinate to the white protagonist, often cast as an assistant or sidekick, embodying familiar stereotypes—comically awkward, unobtrusive, and non-threatening.
Although The Devil Wears Prada 2 has not yet been officially released in cinemas at the time of writing, assistant Jin Zhao is already seen by some as a textbook example of this trope: petite, deferential, yet also a hardworking overachiever.
In the promotional clip, she introduces herself by listing her credentials:
“If you don’t want me, you can interview someone else. That’s totally fine. I did go to Yale, 3.86 GPA, lead soprano of the Whiffenpoofs, and my ACT score was 36 on the very first time.”

According to Jokielicious, this fits the “Pocket Asian” mold perfectly: depicting Asian women as petite and cute, yet also toy-like or accessory-like, something to be “carried” or “used.” For critics, this goes beyond harmless “cuteness,” reducing a person to a racialized physical symbol: small, agreeable, and easily controlled.
One Weibo commenter (@霄林龙松兆) drew a historical parallel:
💬 “Does everyone remember the standard ‘dwarf’ figure in Elizabethan court dramas? Now this type of role has become a ‘symbolic dwarf,’ but the core function remains the same: obedient, somewhat intelligent and entertaining, small in stature, controllable—summoned at will and dismissed just as easily. The difference is that in the past it was a European dwarf; now it’s a different kind of ‘dwarf.’”
Other commenters pointed out that, with Anne Hathaway herself not being particularly tall (5’8” / 1.73 m), casting an Asian actress significantly smaller than her appeared to be a deliberate choice.
The issue raised by the Weibo blogger is far from new. In academic research, similar patterns have been discussed for decades—and they are not limited to female characters.
One of the most cited examples is the caricatured Japanese neighbor, Mr. Yunioshi, played by Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961), often cited as a quintessential stereotyped Asian comedic “outsider.” Other examples include Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles (1984), Data in The Goonies (1985), Yen (played by Shaobo Qin) in Ocean’s Eleven (2001), Ngoc Lan Tran in Downsizing (2017), Jian Yang in Silicon Valley, and Leslie Chow (Ken Jeong) in The Hangover (2009).

Across these roles, a familiar pattern emerges of the Asian sidekick figure, combining various stereotypes within a broader Western representational framework that “others” and exoticizes Asian characters.
Why The Devil Wears Prada 2 Hits a Nerve in China
Over the past years, there has been significant improvement in Hollywood and beyond when it comes to the representation of Asian characters. From Crazy Rich Asians to the Fresh Off the Boat, Asian and Asian American communities have increasingly been portrayed in more diverse and authentic ways.
Nevertheless, stereotyping and underrepresentation still persist across films, TV series, and commercials.
So why is The Devil Wears Prada 2 in particular igniting these discussions now?
Perhaps it is precisely because of what the film represents: a cosmopolitan, fashion-driven story about ambitious career women navigating elite professional spaces.
Most Chinese millennials did not see the original 2006 film in theaters, but through pirated DVDs bought at corner shops. Later on, Gen Z audiences discovered it via online platforms. Over time, The Devil Wears Prada carved out a special place in the Chinese market, particularly among urban, educated young women navigating career pressures. Its themes of workplace hierarchy, female ambition, and the tension between professional success and personal identity strongly resonated with younger generations.
The film’s fashion element was a key part of its appeal. At the time of its release, China was entering a period of rapid luxury brand expansion, and the film offered a glimpse into a global fashion world that still felt distant for many.

The cultural footprint of The Devil Wears Prada (known in Chinese as “The Queen Wears Prada” 穿普拉达的女王) is also evident in how its sequel is being marketed. China is treated as a primary market: the film is released a day earlier than in North America, the main stars attended the Shanghai premiere, Hathaway wore a Chinese designer, and promotions were tied to Vogue China.
But this is also where it stings.
China is a key market, and Chinese audiences in 2026 are not the same as they were in 2006. Today, Chinese cities are just as—if not more—fashionable, avant-garde, and cosmopolitan as New York or Paris.
So why include a character that the very same audiences you are trying to court may recognize as a stereotype of themselves? This creates a clear disconnect between marketing and content, helping explain why the reaction, whether amplified by media or not, has landed on fertile ground.
One Xiaohongshu user nicknamed ‘Momo’ wrote:
💬 “Despite pouring massive promotional efforts into Asia, the film still reveals outdated thinking in its portrayal. That’s disrespectful to its audience. I’m choosing not to watch it.”
Others echo similar sentiments, with some saying they will skip the film altogether.
Meanwhile, some internet users imagine a reversed scenario: what if Andy, the film’s protagonist, were Chinese or Asian, and her assistant American?

Others have also used AI tools to reimagine the film’s title as “The Racist Wears Prada.”

At the same time, discussions around the film remain mixed. Many viewers are still eagerly anticipating its release and revisiting the 2006 original, while others are more critical.
There are also commercial dynamics at play. Some entertainment bloggers—particularly Mengshen Mumu, who helped trigger the initial wave of reports—claim that the production side has filed complaints across Chinese social media platforms to remove certain critical posts. Weibo has, in fact, taken down at least one hashtag related to the controversy (#穿普拉达的女王2亚裔争议#).
To what extent these controversies will impact the film’s box office performance in China remains to be seen.
What is clear, however, is that these discussions reflect a broader and increasingly visible friction between Hollywood and Chinese audiences in the social media landscape of 2026. It is not just about whether China is represented, but how Chinese characters and cultural elements are integrated and portrayed. Chinese moviegoers are no longer a passive audience. They are increasingly proud, protective, and sensitive to the ways in which they are represented on screen.
As one commenter put it:
“We’re no longer content to be ‘Pocket Asians.’”
🎬 The Devil Wears Prada 2 will be released in Chinese cinemas nationwide on April 30.
-By Manya Koetse
With thanks to Miranda Barnes
Eye on Digital China, by Manya Koetse, is co-published on Substack and What’s on Weibo. Both feature the same new content — so you can read and subscribe wherever you prefer. Substack offers community features, while What’s on Weibo provides full archive access. If you’re already subscribed and want to switch platforms, just get in touch for help. If you no longer wish to receive these newsletters, or are receiving duplicate editions, you can unsubscribe at any time.
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《穿普拉达的女王2》卷入辱华!亚裔角色造型刻板,名字恶意满满 / QQ News / April 18
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穿普拉达的女王2亚裔争议 刻板形象引众怒 / China.com / April 19
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